


The Boy From The Circus

by flawedamythyst



Series: The Boy From The Circus [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Bullying, Circus Performer Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-20 19:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12440145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: High School AU.By the beginning of senior year, everyone had settled into a rut. Bucky refused to speak to anyone except Steve, keeping his scowl firmly in place in case anyone else tried to get close; Steve and Tony spent all their time arguing while Steve tried not to think about how many sketchbooks he'd filled with Tony's face and Tony tried to work out why Steve was the only guy he couldn't charm; and everyone else wondered just how much longer it would take for one of them to crack and finally kiss the other.Then the circus came to town for the winter and Clint's arrival in their school shook everything up.Thanks to 1electricpirate for the beta.





	1. Chapter 1

**Bucky**

Bucky wouldn’t have gone to the circus, but Steve had gotten all excited about the idea of acrobats and somehow Bucky ended up getting dragged along. He’d made sure to wear his sunglasses and his fiercest frown, though, so that if anyone from school spotted him, they wouldn’t think he was the kind of guy who liked clowns and ribbon-twirlers and all that shit.

He’d been fully intending not to enjoy anything about the circus at all, and he managed it right up until the archery guy came out in a flourish of purple and biceps, and proceeded to blow Bucky’s mind with the shots he was able to make. No way in hell that shit wasn’t being faked somehow, no one was that good.

Jesus, but then Bucky would also have said that no one in real life was that hot, and he was being proved wrong with every wide, dimpled grin and flex of strong shoulder muscles.

Steve dug an elbow into Bucky’s ribs. “Dude, you’re catching flies,” he whispered, and Bucky hastily shut his mouth and did his best to plaster on his usual ‘too cool to care’ expression.

When they left the tent after the show, Steve caught sight of Tony Stark surrounded by a gaggle of sycophants. His shoulders tightened, his face took on the determined look of a man going into battle, and he stalked over to have it out with him about... something. Bucky had lost track of Steve’s latest excuse to start an argument with Tony.

He didn’t bother following. Instead, he found a tent pole to lean against and tipped his head back to look at the stars. In his experience, it would take Steve about fifteen minutes to get so wound up by Tony that he’d storm off, and then Bucky would be treated to a rant about him all the way home.

The crowd coming out of the big top slowed to a trickle, then disappeared. Behind him, he could hear the circus guys moving around, starting to pack up. It made the anxiety that was constantly squatted at the base of his skull like a toad under a log pick up a little, but it had been a good day and he was feeling pretty happy and relaxed, so he was able to push it down with the view of the night sky over his head and the memory of the archer’s easy grin.

Most of Tony’s friends had also left by now, so it was just him and Steve arguing while Rhodey leaned against a wall near-by. Bucky caught Rhodey’s eye and they exchanged an eye-roll, but he didn’t bother going over to talk to him. He glanced around at the scattered trailers and tents of the circus and then froze.

The archer was sat on the steps of one of the trailers, a jacket slung over his stage costume and a beer in his hand. When he caught Bucky watching, he grinned and raised his bottle in salute.

“You know the show’s over, right?” he called.

Bucky hated talking to strangers. It made his skin feel tight and his breathing go funny, and he always ended up making a fool of himself one way or another. And this guy was hot as hell, which made it like double jeopardy.

The guy was still watching him, though, and at this point, Bucky was going to come across as weirder if he didn’t go talk to him. Screw it, Steve was right there within shouting distance. Bucky could manage a few words to a hot guy, right?

Bucky glanced back at where Steve and Tony were still talking and took a deep breath. _You can’t be a coward all your life_ , he reminded himself, and walked over to the archer, a cold sweat washing over his body. 

“I’m waiting for my friend,” he said. “He likes to get in arguments, especially with that guy.”

The archer glanced over at Steve and Tony, and Bucky followed his gaze. Steve hadn’t noticed that Bucky was taking a step into the unknown, which was probably for the best. Bucky didn’t want to see his ‘I’m so proud of you for overcoming your fears’ look right now. Or ever, really, come to that. 

“Is your friend the angry blond or the world-weary rich guy?” asked the archer. Close up, Bucky could see he was younger than he’d figured when he was in the ring, about the same age as him. How the hell did a teenager get so good at shooting arrows?

“The blond,” he said, looking at Steve again, hating that it felt like he was using his presence as a security blanket to get through this conversation. Better than not being able to talk at all, though. “And, trust me, he’s not even a close to peak anger right now.”

Not that Steve really hit the giddy heights of frustrated rage that he used to when he was smaller. A year or so ago, before his growth spurt kicked in, he used to just radiate rage from every cell in his tiny body, which had been kinda hilarious as long as you weren’t on the receiving end.

The archer raised his eyebrows. God, his eyes were so freaking blue. “So, might be a while before you get going then. Want a beer?”

“Sure,” said Bucky, because you didn’t say no to that without coming across as a weirdo. Plus, maybe it would help with the anxiety creeping up his spine. He’d just have to hope like hell that his parents didn’t notice he’d been drinking when he got back home.

The archer reached back inside the trailer and pulled out another beer, popping the cap off and handing it to Bucky. Bucky reached for it with his bad arm, then realised his mistake when it slipped against his glove and his grip wasn’t strong enough to keep hold of it. He had to grab for it with his other hand to stop himself from dropping it. Shit, he couldn’t even take a beer without messing it up. He looked at the archer but he didn’t seem to have noticed, thank fuck. Bucky shoved his bad arm into his hoodie pocket, where it would be out of the way and, hopefully, unnoticed.

He took a sip of his beer, pushing back the churning nerves. “Shouldn’t you be helping clean up or something?”

The archer snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I’m a performer, performers don’t have to do any of the manual labour.” He eyed Bucky in a way that made Bucky’s skin heat, and he took another gulp of beer to hide his reaction. “Gives me time for other stuff. Like chatting to hot guys.”

Bucky stayed very still for a moment and let that sink in. The sexy archer thought he was hot.

What the hell did he do? Well, other than keep his cool. Or pretend to keep his cool, since there was nothing actually cool about him right now. He took another sip, trying to stay as casual as possible. He could do this. This guy might be a stranger but he wasn’t a danger. Well, probably not a danger, but Steve was right there if Bucky needed him, and Tony and Rhodey as well. Tony was an asshole, but he probably wasn’t the kind of asshole that would let Bucky get hurt without intervening, and Rhodey definitely wasn’t. 

“You mean, plying underage guys with booze,” he said.

The archer laughed. “Hey, I’m a carnie. I’m meant to be corrupting the youth.” He leaned forward, looking up at Bucky with a look that made Bucky’s mouth go dry. “I can corrupt you in other ways, too, if you’re up for it.”

This whole thing was terrifying. The sick fear that had taken up residence in his stomach after the incident three years ago surged up, and Bucky took a deep breath. Nope, no, not today. He wasn’t going to be the guy who was too scared to get off with the hot carnie archer. He was never likely to see the guy again, he could take a risk just this once, right? Without it ending with pain and misery?

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Steve was still close if he needed him, then turned back to the archer and found a smirk that he hoped came across as sexy rather than terrified. “Sure, I guess, why not?”

The archer’s smile grew and he set his beer down, then leaned back on his elbows so that his jacket fell open, revealing the tunic of his stage costume, skin-tight over his chest and abs. “You don’t seem very sure. It’s only a real corruption if you make the choice for yourself.”

Bucky pulled in a breath that was only slightly strangled. Jesus. Was he really going to do this? Let a guy whose name he didn’t even know get close to him and trust he wasn’t going to hurt him?

The guy’s smirk had frozen in place and there was a tentative look in his eyes that made Bucky think he wasn’t as confident as he seemed. For some reason, that was what made him act.

He moved in and knelt down on one of the steps, putting him at the right height to reach out and rest his hand on the archer’s cheek. He curved his hand so that his finger tips were pressed to his skin rather than the fingerless glove that covered the palm of his hand, because if he was going to touch him, he wanted to actually feel him.

“Not really a choice when you look like that,” he said, before he realised just how cheesy that sounded.

The archer laughed and leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. “Nothing like a bright purple tunic to bring all the boys to my yard,” he said, and then Bucky couldn’t resist any longer. He closed the distance between their lips and kissed the guy.

It didn’t last very long, little more than a peck, but when he pulled back, the warm, pleased look in the guy’s eyes was enough to make him move in again for a longer, more indulgent kiss, lips parting and tongues entangling.

“Clint!” called someone in the distance, but Bucky barely heard it, too caught up in kissing this guy, running his fingers up through the short spikes of his hair, gripping at the hard muscle of his shoulder.

“Clint!” It was a lot closer this time. Bucky pulled back, suddenly aware of how exposed they were.

“Jesus, Clint!” called the voice again, and Bucky glanced over to see one of the other circus guys glaring at them. The fear he’d been keeping forced down took its chance to overwhelm him. Oh god, what if this guy took offence to them kissing? What if he was a homophobe and decided to get violent?

Bucky jumped away from the guy, putting distance between them and backing towards where Steve was.

The archer followed Bucky’s gaze, then rolled his eyes. Bucky let himself be reassured by his apparent indifference about being caught out, and glanced back over at Steve to remind himself that he had back-up, he wasn’t alone here. Steve had backed Tony up against the wall of a tent and had both his hands on his hips as he lectured him, while Tony looked at him with an indulgent smile that made it clear he didn’t give a shit about whatever Steve was worked up about. The familiarity of it went a long way to calm Bucky down.

“Fucking Barney,” the archer muttered, then raised his hands and sent a series of gestures at the other guy.

_Sign language,_ thought Bucky. His eyes went to the archer’s ears, where he realised a pair of hearing aids were tucked. Huh. How hadn’t he noticed those earlier?

Well, he guessed he’d been a little bit distracted by staring at other parts of his body.

“He’s an idiot, he knows I can’t hear him when he yells from that far away,” muttered the guy, who Bucky realised must be Clint. He glanced back at Bucky and, catching his look, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, so I’m deaf,” he said, defensively. “I’m still the best damn shot you’ve ever seen, and my biceps are freaking incredible.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Bucky. He glanced over at where the other guy had been to see he’d stormed off again. Relief rolled through him. “You’re a pretty good kisser, too.”

That earned him a grin, which lit up Clint’s face and made all the fear that Bucky had had to wade through just in order to flirt with a stranger worth it.

“I’ll tell the ringmaster to put that on the next poster,” said Clint. “The Amazing Hawkeye, the best marksmen in the world and a pretty good kisser, too.” He was glancing away too though, in the direction the guy had gone. “Look, I hate to break this up before you’re completely corrupted and all, but Barney needs me for a thing.”

“It’s cool, I should get my friend and head home anyway.” As great as this interlude has been, Bucky could already feel relief washing through him at the idea of being back with Steve instead of talking to a stranger.

Clint nodded. “Okay, well. See you around, I guess?”

“Sure,” said Bucky easily, because the circus would be moving on in a few days, when the hell were they going to see each other again? If Bucky had thought there were any risk of that, there was no way he’d have kissed the guy. He’d managed to suppress the anxiety for a few minutes, but there was no way he wanted to get tangled up in something that lasted any longer than that.

When he got back to Steve, he was still toe-to-toe with Tony, glaring at him in the way that meant he hadn’t been paying attention to anything else for the last ten minutes, which was a relief. If Steve didn’t know Bucky had found the courage to get off with a hot stranger, he couldn’t tease him about it. 

“Hey, punk, quit hassling this asshole and let’s get home,” he said.

Steve turned to him and made an exasperated gesture. “Bucky, you don’t understand, he’s been—”

“Oh my god, spare us,” said Tony. He gave Bucky a nod. “Good to see you, Chuckles.” He glanced over at Rhodey, who looked as if he was lapsing into a coma after sitting through round 400 of Rogers vs. Stark. “C’mon, let’s get you home before pumpkin o’clock.”

“God, please,” said Rhodey, getting up. “I’m losing the will to live.”

“Aw, c’mon, marshmallow,” said Tony, slinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed off towards his car. “You know you don’t mean that.”

Steve let out a very long, slow breath. “I hate that guy.”

“Sure,” said Bucky. “That’s what it is.”

Steve sent him a dark look and strode off. Bucky trailed behind him, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder to see if Clint was still around. He’d done his crazy experimenting with a circus performer, picked up an anecdote for when he was much, much older and able to share this kinda thing, and now he was going to go home and not think about what it might have been like to go inside Clint’s trailer and continue being corrupted.

****

Steve was still grumbling about Tony on Monday morning as he and Bucky walked to school together.

“I can’t believe the teachers let him get away with parking like that,” he was saying as they headed through the gates. Bucky spotted Brock and his friends, half-hidden behind the caretaker’s shed with cigarettes in their hands, and saw a way to escape.

“I’ll see you in class, Stevie,” he said, pulling his own packet of smokes out.

Steve gave him his _I am disappointed you choose to pollute your lungs like this_ look, but Bucky had worked up an immunity to it. Well, mostly.

Brock nodded at him as Bucky slumped against the wall next to him and lit up. He wasn’t really friends with Brock and his gang, not properly like he was with Steve, but he associated with them enough for some of their bad-boy cool to rub off on him. 

Getting through high school was all about projecting the right image. As long as Bucky wore a leather jacket and a scowl, and was known to smoke with Brock and his lot, people thought they knew who Bucky was and steered clear of him, which was all Bucky really wanted. He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone other than Steve unless he could absolutely help it.

“Good weekend?” asked Jasper. Bucky gave him a shrug that he hoped summed up his attitude towards the question.

“Ah Jesus, what’s this bullshit?” asked Brock.

A brightly-coloured minivan painted with clowns, acrobats and a circus tent had pulled up in one of the spaces closest to them and a mixed bag of kids were getting out—including, to Bucky’s horror, Clint. Shit, he hadn’t thought he’d ever see him again, that had been the whole point.

Jasper made a rude noise. “Ain’t you heard? The circus is spending the winter here, so all their brats are going to be cluttering up our schools for a few months.”

Bucky took a drag on his cigarette, trying to look as composed as possible while it felt like he was having a mental breakdown.

“Fucking carnies,” muttered Brock.

“All right!” Bucky heard Clint say to the others. “Everyone got all their shit? Good, okay, Pietro, you’re in charge of getting everyone across the road without killing them, and then getting them back here for 3.”

A kid with hair so blond it was almost white nodded importantly and then gathered up the smaller kids and headed across the road to the middle school. That left only Clint and a red-headed girl who looked about freshman age. 

Looking around, Clint caught sight of Bucky. He grinned and gave him a wave.

“Wait, do you know a carnie?” asked Brock, in the incredulous tones that meant Bucky’s bad-boy cred was at risk.

Bucky tore his eyes away from Clint’s grin. “Of course not,” he scoffed, stubbed out the end of his cigarette and headed inside, resolutely not looking at Clint.

He felt like an utter shit within about a minute and tried to tell himself that it was better that Clint knew he was an asshole right from the start. At least he wasn’t gonna try and talk to Bucky again. That was a good thing, right?

Yes, it had to be. Bucky had Steve, he didn’t need any other friends, and he definitely didn’t need the mess of a romance or whatever. If he’d had the faintest idea that Clint was going to turn up at school, he’d never have gone near him.

When he got to homeroom, Steve was talking to Sam. He glanced up as Bucky collapsed into the seat next to him.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” bit out Bucky.

Sam snorted. “Just the usual crushing existential angst, then?”

Bucky glared at him. Despite the fact that Sam was probably Steve’s other best friend at this point, he and Bucky didn’t get along at all. Bucky hadn’t bothered putting any effort into being polite to him when he transferred in, which had worn down Sam’s attempts to be friendly pretty quickly.

Steve frowned at them both, but Miss Hill came in before he could say anything further.

****

Bucky’s last class before lunch was History, which was always a bit of a nightmare because Mr Coulson insisted on everyone sitting in alphabetical order, which put Bucky right at the front and Steve and Tony next to each other. Today, it was even more of a nightmare, because it turned out Clint was in their class, and his surname put him right next to Bucky.

Bucky did his best to hide behind his hair, which was mostly why he’d grown it long to start with, but Clint seemed pretty content to ignore him. Okay, good. As long as he’d got the message that Bucky didn’t want to talk to him.

Tony and Steve managed to get through the class with only a furious, whispered argument about whether or not Tony’s foot was in Steve’s space followed by another about the exact percentage that Tony needed to rock back on his chair. Mr Coulson’s eye didn’t start twitching until ten minutes before the end, which was almost a record.

When the bell went, Mr Coulson came over to Clint and started to run through the topics they were covering, trying to work out if he’d studied them before. From Clint’s responses, Bucky got the feeling he hadn’t got too far at any other schools.

Not that he was listening in, he just needed to make sure his bag was packed properly before he left, that was all.

“I can lend you some catch-up materials,” Coulson said, “but if you want to check out a student’s notes, then…” He glanced around the room at who was left. Bucky froze as Coulson’s eyes settled on him for a brief moment, panic bursting through him. Coulson’s gaze moved on, though, to Bucky’s eternal gratefulness. “…Steve’s probably your best bet.”

Crap. If Bucky knew Steve at all, then it would only take a few minutes of chat for Steve to have enfolded Clint into his ever-growing circle of friends, and then Bucky was going to be stuck with him hanging around, just like he was stuck with Sam and Natasha and Thor and Bruce and… Jesus, half the grade at this point.

He couldn’t blame Coulson, though. If Bucky were a teacher looking to palm a new student off on someone who’d provide him with all the help he needed, he’d go for Steve as well.

“Sure, I can help,” said Steve, pausing next to Clint. “No problem. Do you want to come and have lunch with us and we can work out what you need?”

“Excellent,” said Coulson. “Thank you, Steve.”

God damnit. Bucky’s doom was sealed.

“Hey, aren’t you the archer guy?” asked Steve as they left the classroom, Bucky trailing behind the two of them and trying to look as if he just happened to be going the same way, and not like he was following Steve like a lost puppy.

“Yep!” said Clint. “That’s me. The Amazing Hawkeye!”

“You were great!” said Steve, then glanced back at Bucky, blowing his cover. “Wasn’t he, Buck?”

“Sure,” snapped Bucky. “Real swell.”

Clint sent him an amused eyebrow raise. “Always happy to meet a fan.”

Bucky glared at him, then stared down at the floor to stop himself noticing that he had the same look on his face as he’d had just before Bucky had kissed him.

There was a tree on campus that used to be where Steve and Bucky had lunch together, back in the early, halcyon days when it was just the two of them. Now, it was where everyone Steve had befriended had lunch while Bucky glowered at them and thought about how peaceful it had been back then.

It wasn’t that he hated people, not really, although he liked to pretend he did. Mostly, it was just that they made him nervous, and that made him angry. Just because he’d had a bad experience once didn’t mean that everyone was out to get him, but he couldn’t seem to persuade his anxiety that. It hadn’t taken long after the incident for him to decide it was easier just to glare at everyone and make sure they kept their distance.

Tony had apparently felt the urge to join them for lunch today, which meant he brought Rhodey and Pepper as well. The space under the tree felt very crowded, especially with Clint right there, making easy friends with all these people Bucky had known for years but never really spoken to.

“So, if you’re, like, a crazy awesome circus guy, how come you’re wasting time with high school?” asked Tony.

Clint shrugged. “Education is always good, right? Just because I’m the best damn shot in the country doesn’t mean I don’t need to know about the causes of the Second World War or whatever.”

“The best shot in the country,” repeated Sam, skeptically.

Clint just shrugged. “Hey, I just call it like it is.”

“It’s good to have confidence in your own abilities,” said Steve. He glared at Tony. “Unless you have too much and it turns into hubris.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s impossible to have too much confidence when you’re this awesome,” he said, gesturing at himself.

Bucky poked Steve with his foot to prevent more bickering. “You wanna come over after school? Call of Duty?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll text my mom and let her know.” By which he meant _and check she’s well enough for me to not feel guilty for having fun_ , but Steve’s mom’s illness was on the list of things they never mentioned, so Bucky just nodded.

Steve pulled out his cell and sighed. “Okay, no I won’t, because the battery’s died again.”

Bucky fished his cell out without needing to be asked. Steve’s phone had a tendency to randomly die in the middle of the day, mostly because it was about a hundred years old.

“Can I have a look?” Tony asked, and Steve tossed the phone over to him, then took Bucky’s so he could text his mom.

Tony made a very rude noise. “Jesus, is this steam technology? I feel like this should be in a museum. I can’t believe it’s still working at all.”

Steve bristled. “It’s fine,” he snapped, taking it out of Tony’s hands to stop him opening up the back and start poking at it.

“It’s really not,” said Tony. “Hey, how about I bring you a new one? We’ve got a bunch of my dad’s prototypes at home, I could totally set you up with something so new and shiny that it’s not even in the shops yet.”

The look Steve gave him could have refrozen the ice caps. “It’s _fine_ ,” he said. “I don’t need your charity, and you can’t buy my friendship like you do everyone else’s.”

Tony’s grin didn’t waver, but Bucky spotted a twitch of his shoulders, like a tiny flinch.

“Hey, as Tony’s best friend, I resent that,” said Rhodey. “Even the Stark billions wouldn’t be enough for me to put up with some of the bullshit Tony’s got me involved in if I wasn’t genuinely friends with him.”

Tony blinked as if he was surprised by that, but he covered it well. “See, Rogers? I’m awesome _and_ rich, not awesome because I’m rich. And, seriously, let me give you a new phone, it’s no—”

“I’m fine,” snapped Steve, passing Bucky’s phone back to him.

Bucky glanced at Tony’s expression, then back at Steve’s clenched jaw, wondering how these two could keep being so shit at this. Tony had joined the school at the beginning of last year, how the hell had he still not learnt that trying to give Steve stuff only made him irritated? And how had Steve not realised that the reason he got so irritated so quickly with Tony was because he had a crush on him?

Bucky caught Natasha’s eye as he glanced away, and she gave him an epic eye roll. Bucky forced his face to stay as a mask to stop himself from returning it.

“Hey, is anyone heading in the direction of Room 27 next who can show me the way?” asked Clint, looking at his planner.

“That’s in the science block,” said Bruce. “Bucky, you’ve got Biology next, don’t you?”

Bucky glowered at him. “Yeah,” he said, trying to sound as unfriendly as possible.

“Awesome,” said Clint, sounding less than enthused.

Bucky was tempted to run off and get away while everyone was still packing their things up and sorting out who was going where next, but he had a feeling he’d have to face Steve’s wrath if he did that, and he didn’t have the energy for that today. Instead, he hung about until Clint was ready, then took off without a word.

They walked to the science block in silence, Bucky keeping half a step ahead and hunching his shoulders to make it clear just how unwelcome a conversation would be.

Once in the block, he gestured at the right hallway. “Down there.”

Clint glanced over. “Thanks. Hey, so, I have a question.” Bucky deepened his scowl, but Clint wasn’t put off. “Are you pretending nothing happened because you’re buried in the closet, or because you don’t want people to know you’ve made out with a carnie? Are you repressed or a snob?”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from glancing around to make sure no one had heard. Clint rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, seriously? Okay, you know what? I don’t care. Either way, you’re a coward, because I know you enjoyed it at the time.” He gave Bucky one last withering look, then strode off towards his class.

Bucky aimed a glare at everyone else in the hallway, and headed off for Biology. Clint didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, and Bucky didn’t have to explain himself to him. It had only been a kiss.

A really fucking good kiss, but still.

A freshman stepped back into Bucky’s path and Bucky growled at him to get him to move, making him squeak and jump aside.

****

**Steve**

As Bucky and Steve left school at the end of the day, they walked past Clint loading the other circus kids into the minivan. Steve called over to him and got a cheery wave in return, then glanced at Bucky, who had his hands jammed in his pockets and was resolutely ignoring the guy.

Steve had gotten used to Bucky’s attitude towards other people over the last few years, but he seemed to be going above and beyond with Clint. Steve thought back to the slightly shell-shocked look Bucky had had when they’d been watching his act and wondered if he could get away with teasing Bucky about his obvious crush, or if he’d just get his head bitten off.

“He seems like a nice guy,” he said. “I wonder how long they’ll all be here.”

Bucky’s glare at the sidewalk darkened. “Don’t you think you’ve got enough friends?”

“Sure,” said Steve, “but you don’t. You could ask him to teach you some archery, you looked pretty interested the other night.”

And, yep, there it was, Bucky was fighting a blush. You’d only see it if you knew to look for it, but once you did, the signs were unmistakable. Or, at least, they were to Steve. Bucky didn’t really let anyone else get close enough to know him that well.

“No way my arm would be okay for archery,” said Bucky, which made Steve feel like an ass, because Bucky’s arm was a minefield they usually avoided. “But maybe he knows an acrobat you could talk to. I know how much you like leaping off shit.”

Steve grinned. “Maybe we could swap out gym class for circus skills, then start our own circus?”

“Thor would make a good strongman,” said Bucky. “He’s already got the name for it.”

Steve laughed. “Sam could do some kinda falconry act. He was telling me about his uncle’s birds earlier. And Natasha would definitely be an acrobat too. And Tony…” He tried to place Tony in a circus setting, then made a face. “No idea.”

“Are you kidding?” said Bucky. “He’d be the ringmaster. Top hat, tails, and never shutting up.”

Steve pictured it and grinned. “Yeah, okay, that’s pretty much perfect.” A red waistcoat and black tails would actually suit Tony really well. Steve’s fingers itched to draw it and he clenched them into fists. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to draw Tony any more, because it had been getting a bit out of hand and he couldn’t afford to keep filling sketchbooks with drawings he couldn’t show anyone else.

If he drew the whole circus they were imagining, though, then he’d have to put Tony in, standing dead centre with his arms thrown wide and that bright, showman’s grin on his face.

“Taking all the credit while Pepper runs around backstage actually organising shit,” said Bucky, then frowned. “Is it backstage at a circus, or is it something else? Back-tent?”

“Oh yeah, she’d be the one with a clipboard and a harried look,” agreed Steve. “So, what, we’ve got me and Natasha as acrobats, Tony as ringmaster, Sam with his birds, Thor as strongman, you and Clint doing archery—”

“No,” interrupted Bucky. “I’m not doing archery. I’ll do, I don’t know, sharpshooting with a gun or something like that. Do they still do lion taming?”

Steve snorted. “You wouldn’t lion tame. You’re way too soft-hearted for that, you wouldn’t be able to keep a lion in a cage.”

Bucky gave him the kind of glower that made half the school think he was a homicidal maniac, but Steve wasn’t fooled for a moment. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Bucky let out a sigh.

“Fine, okay, maybe I’ll just sell the tickets.”

They’d reached Bucky’s house now, so Steve paused while Bucky pulled out his keys. “Oh yeah,” said Steve, “customer service and social interaction, definitely your strong suits.”

Bucky snorted as he opened the door. “I’d enjoy throwing out people trying to sneak in without a ticket.”

“Bouncer,” said Steve. “Yeah, okay, that works.” He pictured Bucky in a dark suit and shades, with folded arms and a forbidding expression. Okay, yeah, he really did have to draw this now. It would need to be large, and colourful. Maybe oil pastels?

He followed Bucky inside the house, already plotting it out. A whole dizzy circus scene, all circling around Tony as ringmaster in the centre.

****

Steve spent a couple of hours at Bucky’s before heading back home. When he got in, his mom was asleep on the sofa, a blanket half pulled over her.

He paused in the doorway to watch her. She looked so frail now, especially when she was asleep. He couldn’t help but think back to when he’d been small, when she’d seemed like a force of nature. She’d always been on the go, working two jobs and still finding time to take Steve to all his medical appointments. Now, she barely had enough energy to leave the couch most days.

He glanced up at the clock. There was time for her to sleep a bit longer while he cooked dinner. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder, then went into the kitchen.

She was quiet as they ate, then went straight to bed rather than staying up any later. Steve helped her get ready and tried not to think about how her bones showed through behind her stretched skin, or how much worse the rattle in her lungs was when she started coughing.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asked.

Steve shook his head. “Got an art project to start on.”

She gave him a look that made it clear she knew the art project was an excuse. “You should be getting out with your friends, you know,” she said. “You’re in high school, you should be having fun.”

“I hung out with Bucky earlier,” Steve pointed out. “He’s not exactly the going out type, though.”

She sighed, letting her eyes shut. “At least tell me you have plans for this weekend.”

“Sure,” said Steve. “I’m going to stay home and hang out with my awesome mom.” She found enough energy at that to open her eyes again and glare at him. “C’mon, it’s a school night, mom, are you sure you should be encouraging me to become a teenage tearaway?”

She put a hand on his shoulder and fixed him with a very serious look. “I just want you to be the best you that you can be. If that means being the best teenage tearaway you can be, then so be it. As long as you try your hardest at the things that you want to succeed at.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, then I’ll be getting on with this art project.”

She let her hand drop as she relaxed into the sheets. “Well, okay. As long as you’re happy.” Her eyes fell shut again. “Your father was a teenage tearaway,” she said, in a distant voice.

“I know, mom,” said Steve, and kissed her forehead before heading back to his room and the sketches of the big top he was working on.

****

Steve’s house was far enough out that he got the bus into school every morning. He usually got off early so that he could walk in with Bucky, but the next morning Bucky let him know his sisters were walking with him so he stayed on the whole way.

Which meant he was right there when Tony Stark’s ridiculous sports car sped past, taking the corner way too fast as he pulled into the school gates.

“Did you see that?!” he said, turning to Sam, who did not seem be sharing the kind of outrage that Steve felt was appropriate.

“C’mon, Steve, can’t we have one morning without a rant about Stark?” he asked, tiredly.

“His reckless driving is going to end in an accident,” Steve pointed out. “Do you really think we should just be sitting back and ignoring it?”

Sam tipped his head back to lean against the seat. “I think if your nagging was going to change his driving, it would have done it months ago. You’re just wasting your breath.”

Steve tightened his jaw, but didn’t bother responding. The minute they were off the bus though, he made a beeline for where Tony was lounging against his car, chatting to a handful of cheerleaders.

“Oh man, here comes Captain Law-Abiding,” he heard Tony say as he got close. “I think I’m about to get yelled at for having fun again.”

He tipped a wink at one of them and Steve felt his fury boil in his chest. He crushed it back down.

“When you kill someone with your reckless driving, you’re gonna get more than yelled at,” he said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Steve, I’m not gonna kill anyone, I’m always perfectly in control. I’ve had lessons in racing driving, you know. Tell you what, how about you take a drive with me sometime and I’ll prove it? I could take you home this afternoon.”

Steve pictured being in the passenger seat while Tony squealed around corners and sped down highways with the wind buffeting around them, and the grin Tony always wore when he was doing something exhilarating and dangerous.

It was more tempting than it should be, but he made himself shake his head. “I’m not getting in any car driven by you until you learn what a speed limit is.”

“You can give me a lift,” said one of the cheerleaders. “I don’t mind a bit of wind in my hair.” She tossed her head back, flicking her long hair. Steve gritted his teeth to stop himself making an unfair comment.

Tony grinned at her. “That could be fun. Hey, how about you come back to mine and hang out?” He threw her a wink and she flushed, pleased.

Steve had to bite his tongue on his first three responses to that display. For all that he kept on Tony’s case, he did his best to be fair and keep his inconvenient attraction to him separate from the many issues he had with things like his driving, his attitude, and the way he clearly gave no shits about anyone other than himself. 

“You’re taking your life in your hands,” he finally told the girl. “Make sure you wear a seatbelt.”

She rolled her eyes at him so he gave up and walked away, shoving his hands in his pockets and wondering, not for the first time, why he let Tony rile him up so much. He wasn’t the only hot guy in the school, after all, and none of the others seemed to get Steve’s skin prickling in the same way. 

Sam caught his eye and gave him a pointed look, which Steve carefully ignored. He could also see Bucky watching him from where he was smoking with Brock Rumlow and the assholes he called friends, so he sent him a glare that he hoped summed up his feelings about both Brock and Bucky’s smoking habit. Bucky just took another puff and smirked at him.

How the hell had Steve ended up surrounded by all these smartass punks?

****

Steve was on his way to the tree where they all had lunch when he spotted Clint. “Oh, hey,” he said. “Are you eating with us again today?”

Clint hesitated. “I wasn’t going to.”

Steve gave him the disappointed frown that always worked wonders on Bucky, and which he was trying to train Tony to respond to.

Clint let out a sigh. “Jesus, okay, if you want me to I will, just, I’m not sure your friend Bucky would be okay with that.”

“Bucky?” said Steve, trying to remember if there had been any interaction between them yesterday. As far as he knew, Bucky had barely spoken to the guy. “What, because he just sat and glowered at you? Don’t mind that, he does that with everyone.”

Or, at least, he did now. Back when they were kids, Bucky had been better at making friends than Steve, mostly because Steve was too sickly to join in with a lot of the games that the other kids came up with. In middle school, and when they started freshman year, Bucky had been on the baseball team. He’d spent a lot of time hanging out with the team and their various hangers on, mostly while Steve sat and watched and wondered what it was like to be part of a team like that. It had been watching Bucky make friends with everyone he spoke to, as easy as breathing, that let Steve work out how to do the same, until he’d gathered the group that were waiting for him under the tree right now. 

Of course, by the time he’d done that, everything had changed for Bucky. After the incident halfway through freshman year, he’d spent a lot of time out of school, having several surgeries on his arm. When he’d come back, he’d built a shell that only grew thicker as time went by, pulling away from everyone except Steve and maintaining a mask of angry belligerence. None of his old baseball friends had ever bothered trying to crack through it.

“Yeah, I think it might be more than that,” said Clint, then shrugged. “Screw it, it’s his problem. Let me just grab my lunch from my locker and I’ll meet you out there.”

“Great,” said Steve, grinning at him. 

When he got to the tree, the others were pretty much already gathered. It didn’t look like Tony was joining them today, which meant Steve had to squash down a wave of disappointment. He didn’t like the guy, he reminded himself. Just because he was hot and funny and charming didn’t mean he wasn’t also an egotistical asshole.

“Steve, tell Thor that there’s no way he could eat an entire roasted pig,” said Sam.

Steve eyed Thor. “I’m not sure I can. You have seen the guy eat before, right?”

“Inhaling a family size pizza is a bit different to an entire roasted animal,” protested Sam. “C’mon, no way anyone can manage that much meat.”

“And the apple,” put in Bruce. “Roasted pigs always have an apple in their mouths.”

“Oh yeah, that apple comes with the pig as standard,” said Natasha. She looked Thor up and down. “My money’s on Thor, by the way.”

“For what?” asked Clint, settling down. Steve caught Bucky’s glance over at him and the clench of his jaw as his perpetual scowl deepened, and wondered if Clint was right about there being more to it than Bucky’s usual hatred of new people. Or maybe Steve was right about Bucky having a crush, and he’d just chosen to express it by being an even grumpier asshole than usual.

“Man versus entire roast pig,” said Natasha. “I’m just saying, if anyone could do it, it would be Thor.”

Clint gave Thor an assessing look. Thor puffed his chest out and grinned at him. “Yeah, maybe,” he said. “Only one way to find out though. Right?”

Thor’s eyes lit up. “A challenge!”

Steve groaned. This wasn’t going to end well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Bucky**

 

“I still can’t believe we’ve got circus trash at this school now,” muttered Brock, glaring at the front of the classroom where Clint was sitting, looking about as engaged in trigonometry as Bucky was.

It had been a long couple of weeks. Clint turned out to be in two of Bucky’s other classes as well as History, although they were both still doing a pretty good job of ignoring each other. It helped that Bucky was always in the back row while Clint sat right at the front. Bucky had overheard him telling Miss Hill that it helped his hearing aids out if he was closer to the teacher.

From Bucky’s observations of him, he had a feeling that it still wasn’t perfect. Clint had a tendency to stare fixedly at the teachers’ faces when they were talking, and sometimes asked whoever was sitting next to him things that Bucky couldn’t hear.

He definitely didn’t think about what it would be like to be the guy sitting next to him, helping him out, chatting to him, getting to see that cheerful grin up close.

“He’s worn purple every day this week,” added Jasper. “Do you think he’s a fag?”

Bucky felt himself twitch and turned a glare on him that didn’t get noticed.

“Those fucking carnie shits probably all are,” said Brock. “One big fucking queerfest over there, all of them—”

“Shut up,” growled Bucky.

Brock turned a raised eyebrow at him. “Are you defending the carnie scum, Barnes? I thought better of you.”

“I don’t care about him,” said Bucky, “but I ain’t listening to this homophobic shit.”

Brock laughed. “Okay, sure, whatever.” He glanced at Jasper with a look of amusement. “Guess Bucky’s part of the queerfest as well.”

Jasper sniggered and Bucky did his best to ignore them both. He just sat next to them, they weren’t his friends. Steve was his friend, and he’d been out since 7th Grade, and Bucky wasn’t going to listen to that kind of talk without speaking up, even if there was nothing more he could do about it. He wasn’t exactly mentally equipped for a proper confrontation with Brock.

And it wasn’t like Steve was the only queer guy around, he thought as Clint glanced across at the window, the pale fall sunlight glinting off his hair.

****

The main cause of Bucky’s irritation was that Clint was now fast friends with everyone else and ate lunch with them every day. He always seemed to be in a good mood, grinning and laughing with everyone while Bucky tried to ignore how his eyes shone when he was happy. Fucking asshole.

“Are you coming to the mall after school today?” Sam asked him.

Clint shook his head. “Nah, got to drive the others back, and then I’ve got stuff to do there. Just because we’re on the winter break doesn’t mean we can rest on our laurels, you know. I’m working on a trick where I shoot while somersaulting through a hoop, but it’s taking a while for me to manage it without falling on my face half the time.”

Damnit, and now Bucky was picturing that, Clint’s body stretching as he tumbled through the air, shoulder muscles straining as he shot his bow. The guy must be unbelievably flexible and, shit, that just led to more mental images. Bucky made sure his scowl was in place and hoped there was no sign in his eyes of what he was thinking.

“Man, your life,” said Sam, shaking his head. “I’m just gonna be hanging out at the mall, then going home to do homework.”

Clint gave an awkward half-shrug. “It sounds more glamorous than it is. I mean, I still have to do my homework.”

“I’m guessing you do it while hanging upside down from a trapeze, though,” said Natasha.

“Oh yeah,” said Clint. “Or, you know, balancing on one leg on the back of a galloping horse, or squashed up inside the clown car. That one usually ends with custard pie on my work, though, which doesn’t go down well.”

“Teachers can be so unreasonable,” said Natasha, shaking her head.

Clint nodded sadly, leaning back on his hands, which made his biceps flex. Bucky had to look away, glancing across the grounds.

His eye caught on a girl making a beeline for them, hands clenched into fists. Bucky recognised her as the freshman who also came from the circus. Wanda, he thought she was called. He’d heard Clint mentioning her once or twice. Not that he was listening, of course, Clint’s endless chatter was just kinda pervasive.

“Hawkeye!” she called, but Clint didn’t look around. Bucky kicked out a foot to nudge his leg.

“You’re being called,” he said when Clint sent him a glare.

Clint glanced around to Wanda, who started signing at him as soon as she realised she had his attention. Clint sat up and turned towards her, signing back. From the look on his face, whatever she was saying wasn’t good.

Clint sighed and shook his head, then turned to the others. “Got to go,” he said, standing up and grabbing his bag.

“Everything okay?” asked Natasha.

Clint made a face. “Some assholes stole Wanda’s lunch.”

Steve’s face took on a familiar expression and he started to get up. “Which ones?”

“It’s cool,” said Clint, “I’ve got it. Carnies look after our own.”

He headed off with Wanda, leaving Steve looked frustrated. “We should all be standing up against that kind of bullying,” he said. “It gives our school a bad rep.”

Bucky patted at his leg as soothingly as he could. “I think Clint can probably hold his own. He shoots things for a living.”

Steve made a face and settled back down, but Bucky could tell he was itching to throw himself into a fight. No change there, then.

****

The next day was one of Bucky’s bad days. He woke up three times in the night with the sound of a train engine echoing in his ears, and his arm was aching when he finally dragged himself out of bed.

He had the hottest shower he could stand, hoping to melt the pain into submission, but it didn’t do much good.

He tried to talk his mom into letting him stay home, but his sisters were making a fuss and she barely had time to say, ‘you can’t miss any more school’ before she got swept back up in their drama.

Bucky pulled on his rattiest hoodie to advertise his protest to the world, then went to school with a scowl on his face. 

On the days when Steve didn’t stop by to walk with him, Bucky walked with his sisters to school. The polite fiction that they all maintained was that it was for their benefit, but everyone really knew it was the other way around. At least now that Becca was at high school with him, he felt like slightly less of a tool for needing his kid sisters to protect him from the horror of walking down streets he’d known his whole life.

Steve was waiting for him at the school gate, but he was all excited about some art thing and Bucky couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’m gonna have a smoke,” he said, and turned on his heel to walk away, halfway through whatever Steve was saying.

Except it turned out that he was out of cigarettes. He’d meant to buy more on the way in, but forgotten. Brock and Jasper and the other smokers Bucky knew weren’t around, so there wasn’t even anyone he could bum one from.

He got to homeroom to find that Steve was pissed with him, so he just slumped in his seat and let misery roll through him. Fuck everything.

His first class was Spanish which was usually okay, but the teacher, Mr Galaga, announced that they were going to be doing a group project, writing a brief scene and acting it out, and that he’d pick who worked together. Bucky found himself in a group with no one he really knew, half of whom were the kind of preppy girls who always looked at him as if he were scum.

“Okay,” said one of them, tossing her head back, “let’s all meet after class and—”

“Can’t do that,” said Bucky. “Got to pick up my sisters.” He didn’t, but he really couldn’t stand the idea of hanging around school any longer than he had to today.

She gave him a sour-faced look. “Fine, we’ll just write it without you,” she said. “I’ll give you your script tomorrow.”

“Or he could just be scenery,” said one of the others, and they sniggered.

Bucky felt his ears go hot, and the anger that had been building all day just snapped. “Fuck this,” he said, standing up. “And fuck you too, bitch.”

“James Barnes!” exclaimed Mr Galaga, but Bucky wasn’t in the mood. He grabbed his bag and took off, striding out and down the empty hallways as fast as he could. Shit, shit, that was stupid, he was going to be in trouble now. They’d talk to his parents and he’d have to sit through another round of ‘chats’ about his attitude.

He couldn’t stand the idea, not right now. Instead, he headed up to the roof access door. He’d worked out how to open it without setting off an alarm last year, when he’d been looking for somewhere quiet to hide. No one would find him up there and he could take a few minutes to catch his breath before he went back and faced the music.

He pushed open the door, and then froze. Clint was there, sitting on the low wall that ran around the edge of the roof and looking about as pissed at everything as Bucky was, shoulders rounded as he stared down at something in his hands.

He glanced up, saw Bucky, and made a face. “Oh, fucking perfect,” he said, his voice oddly loud. “Just the person I fucking need right now.”

Bucky scowled at him. He thought about going and trying to find somewhere else to hole up, but he was damned if he was going to let this guy chase him away from his hiding place. He let the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

Clint gave him a twisted smile. “You should know I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” he said. “Not that you’ll give a shit, it’s not like you want to talk to me anyway.”

Bucky dropped his bag to the ground and stepped over to him. “What happened?”

Clint blinked at him, then held out his hand. Bucky automatically reached out to take what he was offered, and Clint tipped a handful of small metal and plastic bits into his hand. Bucky stared at them for a moment before realising they were the remains of his hearing aids.

“Holy shit,” he said, before realising the pointlessness of that. He curled both hands together to better hold them, wary of them slipping off the leather of his gloves and getting lost on the roof somewhere.

“So now you get what you want,” said Clint. “No point in me coming to school if I can’t hear the teachers, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to afford new ones without spending a few months saving up.” He ran his hands back over his head in a frustrated movement. “Shit, Barney’s going to kill me.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do. Even if he could come up with something to say that wasn’t completely useless, it wasn’t as if Clint would hear him, and after treating the guy like a leper, he wasn’t sure what else he could do that might help.

“I mean, I’m not an idiot,” carried on Clint. He was staring down at the roof and paying no attention to Bucky, clearly just talking this out to himself. “I know I’m never going to graduate. Hell, I’ll probably never even get a GED. I just wanted to get at least a few more months of school so I wasn’t completely ignorant.” He kicked at the ground. “Fucking stupid,” he muttered.

“That’s not stupid,” said Bucky, then wondered why he’d bothered. He stepped closer and touched Clint’s shoulder so that he’d look up. “That’s not stupid,” he said again. 

Clint just rolled his eyes. “This whole thing is pointless.”

Bucky looked back down at the shattered aids clutched in his hand. They looked as if they’d been smashed with something heavy. “Did someone break these?” he wondered. What kind of an asshole would smash a deaf guy’s hearing aids?

Clint stood up. “Okay, this being caught having an emotional moment by one of the many guys at this school who hate me has been great, but I’m gonna go and— I don’t know. Buy myself a pizza as consolation or something, I guess.”

He left Bucky on the roof, feeling even more like a shit than he had before. He sat down where Clint had been and wondered when he’d become such an asshole.

Clint thought Bucky hated him, which was probably fair enough as Bucky had done everything he could to make sure he thought that. But hearing the misery in Clint’s voice made him realise that he didn’t want him to be sad, and he definitely didn’t want him not to be around. Getting to see him laughing and joking with the others had been one of the highlights of Bucky’s day, even if he told himself that he hated it.

God damn, how had he fucked this up so badly?

He took a deep breath. It wasn’t too late, he could still fix this. He pulled out his empty cigarette carton and tipped the pieces of Clint’s aids in so they wouldn’t get lost, then stood up, determined. He could fix this, he’d just have to try actually reaching out and talking to someone other than Steve. He could do that. Yes.

****

Of course, as soon as he set foot in the hallway he was collared by Mr Galaga and dragged off for a meeting with the principal about the incident in Spanish. Bucky got through it with as little talking as possible.

“I just don’t like group assignments,” he said with a shrug.

Principal Fury let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, the human race has evolved to work collaboratively, so you’re going to have to learn teamwork.”

Bucky felt his scowl deepen, so he aimed it down at the carpet to avoid getting into further trouble for glaring at teachers.

“Working with people you don’t necessarily get along with is a part of almost every job,” said Mr Galaga.

“And you won’t be able to just get up and walk out,” added Fury. He glanced down at the paperwork he had open on his desk, the file that contained far more information about Bucky than he wanted people to have. “Here’s what we’re going to do, then. You’re going to go home today and think about what kind of attitude is acceptable at school, then come back tomorrow prepared to work with the other students without making a scene. To help you with that, Mr Galaga is going to put you in a different group for this assignment. Does that sound fair?”

Bucky gave a half-shrug. “Yeah, sure.”

They let him go and he slipped off to the bathroom where he could take a deep breath and try and calm himself down. Fucking teachers. And now he had to text his mom to come get him, which would mean she’d yell at him as well. At least she didn’t have a shift today, so she wouldn’t have to leave work.

And when Steve found out he’d give Bucky that _look_.

Not for the first time, Bucky contemplated just going off to Siberia or somewhere like that, somewhere with nothing but ice and snow and no damned people. He closed his eyes and pictured it, nothing but calming, cold white spreading out around him.

The bell rang and he opened his eyes again. Time to stop wallowing and move, before the place filled up with crowds of people.

He sent his mom a text, then went to find Tony. He was just where he thought he’d be, surrounded by the usual gang of sycophants as he headed between classes. Bucky caught his eye and jerked his head, hoping Tony would catch the hint and come over.

He did, but he brought all his friends with him, which was the last thing Bucky wanted.

“Hey, hey, Chuckles,” said Tony. “I heard you had a meltdown in Spanish. Didja catch that Latin spirit?”

Bucky ignored him. “I need to talk to you,” he said, then glanced at the curious stares of Tony’s friends. “Alone.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, but glanced around at the others and made a vague shooing gesture that was apparently enough to make them all scatter.

“This is new and exciting,” he said. “You actually volunteering to talk to someone that isn’t Steve. Do you have some kind of head injury?”

This would be so much easier if Tony would just stop being such an asshole. Bucky gritted his teeth and forced the words out. “I need your help.”

Tony’s dramatic look of shock made Bucky’s fist itch to punch him, but he kept the urge under control.

“You? Bucky Barnes? Need help? From little ole me? Wow, I’ll be putting this day down in my diary.”

“I can do you a favour in return,” said Bucky, because he’d spent most of the time that Fury and Mr Galaga were being disappointed at him thinking this through. “I can give you something you want.”

“Can you?” asked Tony. “Interesting, I wasn’t aware there was anything I wanted that I didn’t already have.”

“You haven’t got Steve,” said Bucky.

Tony’s whole face shut down and he glared at Bucky. “No idea what you mean,” he bit out.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Sure, okay,” he said. “Except, you know, I’m not blind, or stupid, and you’re not subtle.” He held up a hand to forstall Tony’s protest. “Look, I’m meant to be going home to think about my attitude, or whatever, and you’ve got class, so let’s get this done quickly.” He pulled out the carton of hearing aids parts and held it out to Tony.

“I don’t like things being handed to me,” said Tony, holding his hands up.

Bucky gritted his teeth. Right, of course. Everyone knew that about Tony, that he had some stupid eccentricity about being handing things that meant when you were handing worksheets or whatever out, you had to put one down on his desk rather than giving it to him directly. 

He held the carton on his hand where Tony could see it. “Can you fix these, or am I wasting my time?”

Tony picked the carton out of his hand and looked inside with a whistle. “Man, what the hell happened to these?” He pulled a couple of bits out, examining them carefully. “Are these Clint’s?”

Bucky ignored the question. “Can you fix them?” he said again. “Everyone keeps saying you’re some kind of tech genius, or is that just bullshit?”

“Oh, I’m a genius,” said Tony, with easy confidence. “I mean, you’ve given me a box of trash and asked me to rebuild a couple of gadgets that I have no experience with, I’m gonna have to be.” He looked over at Bucky. “Yeah, I can fix these. You gonna tell me why it’s important?”

“Because if you do it, I’ll give you advice on getting Steve,” said Bucky. “You can pretend all you like, we both know that’s what you want.” And it was what Steve wanted as well, so the creeping sense that he was betraying his best friend was bullshit, and he could ignore it.

Tony gave him a long, narrow-eyed look, then caved in. “Yeah, okay, fine. I mean, I’d probably do it anyway, I kinda love messing about with tech, and this one looks like a real puzzle, but…yeah. I agree to your terms.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Good.” He considered for a moment. “Then, have lunch with Steve and the others today, and don’t offer to buy or give him anything, or talk about how awesome you are, or make reference to all the cheerleaders you’ve fucked.” He thought about this morning and added, “Ask him about his current art project.”

“I haven’t fucked that many cheerleaders here,” protested Tony. “Hardly any, really, especially compared to my last school.” Bucky gave him an unamused look, and Tony sighed. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I hear you.”

Bucky nodded. “Fix those,” he said, gesturing at the carton, “and I’ll give you more than the obvious shit than anyone else could have worked out months ago.”

He left while Tony was spluttering some kind of denial that Bucky didn’t care about. His mom was waiting in the parking lot to yell at him, and then he had to go home so that his dad could do the same. Hopefully they’d let him just collapse into bed after that so he could sleep through the rest of this shitty day.

****

**Tony**

 

Tony was kinda tempted to just ditch the rest of school so that he could go home and start working on the aids, but if his dad found out he’d skipped, there’d be hell to pay. It had been made very clear to him when he started here, after the third boarding school threw him out, that even a hint of bad behaviour would trigger a landslide of trouble coming down on him.

Not that he’d been really bothered about that at the time, not until he’d been here a few weeks and gotten to know Steve. Now, he couldn’t imagine anything worse than being pulled out of this school and sent elsewhere, where he wouldn’t get to see the determined look in Steve’s eye when he saw a wrong that needed righting, or the way his face flushed when Tony managed to get him properly riled up.

Which, of course, had made it figure that Steve seemed to be the one person he couldn’t work out how to impress. Somehow, all the things that worked with almost everyone else only seemed to piss Steve off. If Bucky were serious about helping Tony work out how to change that, he was going to grab hold of the chance with both hands.

He sat through his classes, paying just enough attention to get through them while running through everything he knew about hearing aids and how they worked. By the time they got to lunch, his fingers were itching to get to work, but he shoved that aside in favour of heading out to the tree where Steve and his friends always ate.

“Hey, hey,” he said, sitting down and giving them all a grin. Steve huffed a sigh, but Tony allowed himself to pretend there was a faint smile hovering around his mouth. “What’s up, what’s happening, what’s new?”

“Bucky got sent home,” said Bruce.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I heard,” he said, but didn’t add that he’d spoken to him. If he was making a Cyrano de Bergerac deal with Bucky, it would probably go better if Steve didn’t know they were chatting to each other.

“I haven’t seen Clint either,” said Natasha. “Not since this morning.”

Steve frowned. “You think he’s cutting?”

“I didn’t see the van in the parking lot when I came past,” said Bruce.

Huh. Tony’s assumption that the broken hearing aids were Clint’s was looking pretty solid, then, but why the hell would Bucky have them? He didn’t talk to Clint any more than he spoke to anyone who wasn’t Steve.

Unless he’d been the one to break them? That would explain why he’d broken his golden rule of sticking to silent glaring at Tony and actually asked him for a favour.

How the hell did you break something that badly without intending to? Jesus, maybe the meltdown Bucky’d had this morning had been more than a bit of shouting and walking out of class. Maybe he’d lost his shit at Clint and smashed his aids.

And now he was trying to make amends by roping Tony into working his amazing tech magic. It was a good thing he knew an engineering genius who he could bribe.

Remembering the advice Bucky had given him earlier, Tony looked over at Steve.

“Hey, so, I hear you’ve got a new art project,” he said to him.

Steve’s whole face lit up. Tony had never seen anything like it. “Oh yeah, this is great. You’re all in it, it’s— Hang on, let me get out the sketches…” He delved into his bag and pulled out a sketchbook. “Bucky and I were talking about the circus the other day, and about what we’d do if we worked there,” he explained, flipping pages over. “I got inspired.” He held up a page to show a woman with long red hair hanging upside down from a trapeze, easily identifiable as Natasha.

“Oh man, that’s awesome,” said Tony, leaning in. “You’re doing everyone?”

“Yeah,” said Steve, flicking over the page to show a sketch of Thor, clad in a tunic and raising a heavy weight above his head with a wide grin. “I’m going to do a big piece with everyone in it.”

“I’m in it, right?” said Tony, nudging him. “And I’m something cool, yeah?” His mind sped through the possibilities. “Oh man, you were talking about this with Bucky? Please, please don’t tell me I’m down as a clown.”

Bruce snorted. “I could see that,” he said. “You and a bunch of cheerleaders all squashed together in a clown car.”

Tony glared at him. So much for Bucky’s advice about not mentioning cheerleaders.

“Actually,” said Steve, “we were thinking of ringleader.” He glanced down at his sketchbook and gave a small shrug. “I just haven’t drawn it yet.”

“Ringleader,” said Thor, and bellowed out one of his booming laughs. “Oh yes, I can see that! Commanding the action and talking non-stop to the audience!”

Tony grinned. “Yeah, I can definitely live with that. What about you, what are you going to be?”

“Bucky thought acrobat, but I’m not so sure,” said Steve, turning the pages to show more sketches of their friends. Tony was touched to see Pepper there, holding a clipboard and scowling out of the page. She wasn’t really Steve’s friend at all, but he couldn’t imagine running off to start a circus without taking her with him.

Natasha made a thoughtful noise. “Actually, I can see that.” She glanced at Bruce. “Do you remember when he jumped over the railing on the math stairs and nearly gave that guy a concussion?”

Bruce gave her a long-suffering look. “And all the times he decided windows were better than doors?”

“Yeah, you definitely need to be on the trapeze with Nat,” said Tony. Ideally wearing something skintight that showed off his muscles, but he probably shouldn’t mention that. He’d just put the idea aside to be thought about later, possibly at length.

****

When Tony got home, his mom was in the sitting room watching TV with a blank expression and a glass in her hand.

“Hey, Mom,” he said.

She turned to look at him for a long moment before slowly blinking. “Hello, Tony. How was school?” She sounded disinterested, but at least she’d remembered to ask.

“Okay,” said Tony. “Hey, is Dad back tonight?”

She looked back to the TV. “He’s in Singapore,” she said. “Or maybe Malaysia.”

Great, one of his unscheduled business trips. At least that meant the workshop would be free. Tony pulled out the carton of hearing aids bits and headed down there.

It took Tony until the small hours of the morning to rebuild the aids, although it was less rebuilding and more creating a whole new set based on the specs of the ruined ones. He had to make new cases, so he made two sets, one in the same neutral beige as the last set, and then a set in purple because he’d seen Clint around and he respected a guy with a strong personal aesthetic.

He sat back and took a moment to admire them. He’d totally knocked it out of the park, especially when you considered that he’d never even looked at a schematic for a hearing aid before today.

“I’m awesome,” he said, and it echoed in the empty room. One day, he really should get around to building an AI or something that could agree with him when he was being brilliant. He glanced at his watch and made a face. Yeah, okay, way past bedtime.

He found a box for the hearing aids then headed upstairs. His mom was still in the lounge, sitting in the dark with the light of the TV flickering over her face. The only sign she’d moved was that her glass was still full.

Tony didn’t bother talking to her. He wasn’t sure she’d hear him right now anyway.

****

Bucky was with the other smokers when Tony arrived at school the next morning, half hidden behind a shed as if that would fool anyone. As soon as he saw Tony pull up, he threw his cigarette down and strode over to him.

“Could you do it?” he asked.

Tony flicked his sunglasses up onto his head and gave him a grin. “Good morning to you too, Sunshine, I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

Bucky’s stare intensified. “Just answer me, Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled the aids out to give to him. “How could you ever doubt me?” he asked as Bucky opened the box and stared at them.

“They work?”

“What do you take me for?” asked Tony. “What the hell kind of tech genius would give you aids that don’t work?”

Bucky nodded to himself and shut the box, then tucked it away in his bag. “Okay, thanks.”

“Couldn’t help noticing that they looked a lot like someone stamped on them,” said Tony, carefully.

Bucky’s head flew up. “Stamped on them?” he repeated. “Who would—” He let out a long breath. “The guys who took Wanda’s lunch,” he said, under his breath.

There went Tony’s theory about Bucky’s fit of anger. “Those are Clint’s, then?” he asked. “You think there’s some assholes bullying our carnies?”

Bucky glanced at him, jaw clenching. “Seems like.” He paused and then nodded. “That’s it. That’s your way in with Steve.”

“My way in?” asked Tony.

“Yeah,” said Bucky. He glanced around the parking lot, but no one was paying attention to them. “Look, Steve likes you, okay? He just doesn’t know why, so he’s pretending he doesn’t. You need to prove you’re more than just, all this.” His gesture took in all of Tony as well as his car. “All this flash and surface-level shit. This is how you do that. Steve hates bullies, he’s been standing up for the little guy since forever, even when he was the littlest guy around. So, you tell him there’s some bullies making life shit for Wanda and Clint, and you make it clear you’re not going to stand for it. Put yourself on the line to protect them.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Put myself on the line? What, go and beat the guys up? You know I’m not, like, Chuck Norris, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “If you’re not actually willing to do it, then you’re not the kinda guy who Steve should be with anyway.”

Tony thought about the way Steve rounded on guys who catcalled girls or pushed freshman around, and conceded that was probably true. “I still haven’t said I want to be with Steve,” he muttered, tipping his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide the lie.

Bucky just snorted.

****

“We’re eating with Steve and his friends again,” Tony told Rhodey at lunch. “I’ve got something I want to discuss with him.”

Rhodey gave him the _you’re not fooling me look_ that he’d perfected within a week or two of having known Tony.

Tony had never had a friend like Rhodey. His other schools had been for spoilt rich brats, all of whom had been competing to be the most fucked up and none of whom had seen Tony as anything other than a way to piss off their parents, or a connection to cultivate for when they were all older and Tony was running Stark Industries.

Within a week of being at this school, though, Rhodey had made it clear he wasn’t interested in either. It had taken Tony a while to work out what to do with that.

“Is it your insane crush?” asked Rhodey.

Jesus, did everyone know? Tony had thought he’d been at least a little bit subtle.

“No,” he said. “It’s about Clint and the other circus kid.”

“Wanda,” said Rhodey. “I thought Clint wasn’t in again today?”

“Exactly,” said Tony, shooting finger guns at him.

Rhodey sighed, but didn’t ask any more questions, which was one of the things Tony liked about him. He waited until Tony was ready for a big reveal.

He found Wanda on their way to the tree, sitting by herself and staring up at the sky. She was wearing the same red leather jacket that she always had on, even though the weather was getting colder and it didn’t look nearly thick enough. 

“Yo, Scarlet,” he called to her. “Come with me.”

She stared back at him for a moment, then stood up and picked up her bag without a word, trailing after him to the tree.

“I’m beginning to think we need a bigger tree,” said Bruce as they sat down.

Tony rolled his eyes at him. “We need somewhere indoors,” he corrected. “It’s getting way too cold for al fresco dining.”

“You’re welcome to go somewhere else,” said Natasha, raising one perfect eyebrow.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” muttered Wanda.

“You’re here for information,” said Tony. “I’m gathering intelligence, building up a big picture on the shit that’s going on in this school.” She sent him a very blank look. “Start with what happened to Clint,” he added.

She shifted uncomfortably. “He’s decided not to bother with school.”

“Bull,” said Tony. “If he weren’t gonna bother, he wouldn’t have bothered from the start, and he wouldn’t have borrowed all of Steve’s notes.”

Wanda glanced at Steve. “I can bring those back for you tomorrow.”

Steve shook his head, frowning. “Tony’s right. Something must have happened.”

She hesitated, glancing around at them with a closed off expression. _She’s not used to trusting people,_ thought Tony. He knew that expression.

“We’re his friends,” said Sam, and she sighed and gave in.

“He went after the guys who took my lunch,” she said. “The next morning, they got a few more friends and cornered him, roughed him up a bit and broke his hearing aids.” She shrugged. “Not a lot of point for him to come in if he can’t hear anything.”

“They hurt him?” growled Bucky. Tony glanced over to see he’d clenched his hands into fists. Huh, Tony had figured he already knew all this since he’d had Clint’s aids, but apparently not.

Wanda shrugged. “Just bruises. He’s more pissed about his aids.”

Steve straightened his spine and fixed a determined look at Wanda. “Who was it? We won’t let them get away with it.”

“I don’t know, some senior guys,” she said. “They didn’t exactly give me their names.”

“Would you recognise them if you saw them?” asked Tony, and she nodded. He looked over at Steve and raised an eyebrow. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Steve nodded. “If you’re thinking about making sure these guys never hassle anyone again, then yes.”

Tony grinned at him. “Actually, I was thinking about your abs, but sure, that one works too.”

Steve let out a very long sigh, but Tony thought he could see his cheeks going pink. Excellent. No point in just following Bucky’s instructions and making friends with the guy, after all. If he was going to make a play for him, he needed to make his intentions clear.

“So, what? We’re forming some kind of anti-bullying squad?” asked Natasha.

“If that’s what it takes,” said Steve. “We need to send a message that we’re not putting up with this crap any more.”

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky, which made two whole things he’d added to this conversation. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen him so engaged in a discussion.

“There are enough of us to get our point across,” said Rhodey. “We should talk to Fury, make it official.”

Tony snorted. “Seriously? I’m not really the official club type.”

“You are now,” said Rhodey. “Get used to it. We’re gonna get matching shirts, take a yearbook photo together… You can put it on your college applications.”

“Sure, I definitely need help on those,” said Tony. He’d actually already got a place at MIT, but he’d decided not to go early. Not because he wanted to spend more time hanging out with these guys at this shitty school in a small town, nope, he just figured it would be better to go when he was older and more mature, or something.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Steve, frowning at him with deep suspicion. “You don’t usually care about who’s getting bullied.”

Tony faked deep hurt, clasping at his chest and hoping that he’d manage to cover up the moment of actual hurt. “How can you say such a thing? Of course I care!” Steve’s suspicion didn’t lessen even one jot. Tony cast around for something that would ring of truth, something that would demonstrate the stuff Bucky had told him Steve would appreciate. “Okay, look, I’m not saying this to be egotistical or anything, but I’m pretty well-known in school, right? Everyone knows Tony Stark, the billionaire tech genius.” He considered for a moment, then amended that to, “The super-sexy billionaire tech genius. I figure that gives me some kind of, I don’t know, moral authority or whatever. Setting an example and using my influence for good.” He shrugged, hoping he didn’t look as awkward as he felt. “There are way too many asshole rich kids, I don’t want to get lumped in with them.”

Steve gave him a long, assessing look, then nodded. “Okay,” he said, but Tony didn’t think he was fully convinced. Well, fuck it, Tony would just have to prove he wasn’t bullshitting with his actions.

He glanced over at Bucky, who gave him a faint nod, so he must be at least partially on track.

****

Tony was leaning against his car at the end of school, talking to Pepper and a couple of her cheerleader minions. Not that he was allowed to call them that, she’d made that very clear.

He’d mentioned the anti-bullying thing to her and she’d jumped on it with her usual efficiency.

“Rhodey’s right, we’ll need official recognition from the school,” she said. “We don’t want to get accused of vigilantism. If we set up a rota we can have regular patrols, or even just a designated person for incidents to be reported to, and—”

Tony tuned out. He could see the circus minibus pulling up next to where Wanda was waiting with the middle school kids, head bent close to talk to a blond boy who looked like trouble.

“Okay,” said Pepper, “I’m going to draw up some plans tonight and we can talk to the others tomorrow.”

“Sounds awesome,” said Tony, hoping like hell that she hadn’t said anything he should have been listening to.

She nodded at him and swept off, trailed by her minions.

Tony glanced around to make sure there was no one else he was meant to talk to before he left. The guy who had been driving the minibus had got out and was helping one of the smallest kids inside. He was being watched by Bucky, who was staring with more intensity than the scene really deserved.

“You okay, dude?” asked Tony.

Bucky turned towards him with a wild look. “Clint’s not there.”

“No,” said Tony, slowly. “Why would he be? He’s escaped this place, he’s hardly going to keep playing chauffeur for the others.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened and he looked back at the minibus.

“Wanda would pass the aids on to him if you asked her,” said Tony.

Bucky shook his head. “No, I need to talk to him. I need to—” He huffed a breath. “Damnit,” he muttered.

“So go over there,” said Tony. “I’m sure he won’t mind you rocking up, especially not with shiny new Stark-made hearing aids.”

Bucky looked so unbelievably tense that Tony was a little afraid he was going to just crack apart, then he wheeled around to stare at Tony. “You can take me.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re not gonna even try to ask politely? Nice. Besides, it’s not all that far, you could totally walk it—”

Bucky shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t—” He took a very deep breath. “I don’t walk places on my own. I don’t talk to strangers.” The look he levelled at Tony was almost enough to shoot out laser beams, just daring him to comment.

Ah. Okay.

Tony hadn’t been around for it, but he’d heard enough gossip to know that Bucky had had some big traumatic experience in freshman year that had messed up his arm and turned him into the silent, grumpy shit that Tony knew and-— Well, didn’t love, but tolerated, anyway. It hadn’t taken very much digging at all to find the newspaper reports on it. Apparently, there were deeper scars than the ones on his arm.

“Okay,” he said, turning to his car and throwing the driver’s door open. “Jump in, then.”

Bucky had clearly been expecting more resistance than that because he just stared for a second, then hurried around to jump in. He pulled out his phone as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Stevie, I’ve got a ride home, don’t worry about waiting for me,” he said into it. “Yeah. No. Jesus, just get the damn bus and stop fussing, would ya?”

He hung up and Tony raised an eyebrow at him. Bucky scowled back. “Just drive,” he said, waving at the gate.

Tony did, trying to ignore that every single muscle in Bucky’s body clenched tighter and tighter as they got further away from school, or that his breathing started to go a bit funny as they turned off the main road towards the circus. He wasn’t sure what would help, so he just opened his mouth and rambled, letting any old shit stream out. Most of it seemed to revolve around Steve, but hopefully Bucky wouldn’t notice that.

When they got to the circus, Tony pulled up and glanced over at Bucky, who was staring at the gathered trailers and tents as if they were the flaming pits of hell. Tony undid his seatbelt.

“C’mon then, let’s go find your boy.”

“He’s not my boy,” said Bucky automatically, then turned a frown on Tony. “You’re coming?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I can stay here, but I figured you might want someone with you.” If the guy didn’t do talking to strangers, he was going to find it hard to find out where Clint was. Especially as he was starting to look one nasty surprise away from a heart attack.

Bucky stared at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re not mocking me.”

“No,” agreed Tony, getting out of the car. Bucky didn’t move, he just kept staring at him, so Tony huffed a sigh. “I don’t like people handing me things,” he pointed out, hoping like hell that Bucky wasn’t going to start asking questions about exactly where that quirk had come from.

There was a pause, then Bucky nodded and got out of the car without another word. Tony let out a breath, then glanced around for the nearest person.

“Hey,” he called, heading over to a guy who was retouching the artwork on his trailer. “We’re looking for Clint Barton.”

Bucky trailed behind him like a glowering black cloud. Tony pinned on a wide smile in an attempt to balance out some of his overwhelming existential angst. From the look on the guy’s face, it didn’t help much.

“Barton,” he repeated. “He gonna want to see you?” 

Tony considered that. “He’s probably pretty ambivalent about me, but I reckon he’ll want to see this guy,” he said, jabbing a thumb at Bucky.

The man didn’t look as if he could imagine anyone ever wanting to see Bucky. “You’re not the kids that smashed his aids, are you?”

“Nope,” said Tony. “Definitely not. Are there many more questions, or can you point us in the right direction?”

The man shrugged. “No idea where he is.” He went back to his painting.

Bucky made a frustrated noise that Tony ignored. 

“Okay, great talking to you,” said Tony. “Seriously, it’s been a joy.”

“If I was gonna make a guess, I’d try the range he and his brother set up behind their trailer,” the man said, gesturing vaguely over to the left.

Excellent, a clue. Tony set off in that direction with Bucky following behind him, walking closer and closer as they headed further into unfamiliar territory. They passed a handful more people, most of whom gave them suspicious glares. Tony kept his grin pinned on and hoped like hell they found Clint before they got lynched.

There was a bright purple trailer decorated with arrows, and from behind it Tony could hear the thunk of arrows striking a target. Okay, this looked hopeful.

He glanced at Bucky. “Want me to wait here?”

Bucky shook his head. “Be in sight.”

Tony could do that. They rounded the corner of the trailer to find a couple of archery targets set up and Clint aiming an arrow at one of them. He let it go, hitting a perfect bullseye, and Bucky made a quiet noise Tony had a feeling he wasn’t aware of. Tony turned and raised an eyebrow at him and Bucky cleared his throat, then strode off toward Clint.

Tony paused where he was and leaned against the trailer to watch. This was so much better than one of his mom’s soaps.

****

**Clint**

 

Usually it only took about an hour of shooting for Clint’s anger to calm, but it had been days and he was still pissed about his aids. What kind of fucking assholes thought it was okay to smash something that important and expensive just because they didn’t like carnies?

He drew back the bow and let the arrow fly. It wasn’t the same without the familiar whistle through the air and the solid sound of it hitting the target.

A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched then turned around with a scowl, expecting to see Barney. Instead, it was possibly the last person he expected to see.

“Bucky?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bucky had his hands buried in his hoodie pockets and looked incredibly uncomfortable. He gave a bit of a shrug. “I’ve got a present for you,” he said.

From his body language, Clint had expected him to be mumbling, but he was speaking clearly enough for his lips to be easy to read. The last time Clint had spoken to him, he’d acted as if he couldn’t understand a word he was saying because he’d been pissy and not in the mood to have to actually interact with him. Sometimes, it was far better to just rant without being expected to pay attention to the response.

“Present?” he asked, skeptically, and earned himself another half-hearted shrug.

“Kinda. I mean, they were yours to start with, so not really.” Bucky pulled a small box out of his pocket and thrust it at Clint, who slung his bow over his shoulder to take it.

He opened it to find his hearing aids inside, perfectly intact and looking as good as new. Hell, better than new, and with a replacement set of purple cases. He stared for a long moment, gobsmacked, then glanced up at Bucky. “Do they work?”

“I hope so,” said Bucky, then he glanced over his shoulder and Clint realised they were being watched by Tony Stark.

Okay, this visit was just getting weirder and weirder. Tony gave him a little wave, which Clint returned, then said something Clint was too far away to read. He glanced at Bucky, who said, “He said that they’ve got the Stark guarantee.” He rolled his eyes to express his opinion at that.

Clint looked back down at the box. Well, only one way to find out. He took the aids out and fitted them behind his ears, then switched them on. Sound burst into life around him, birds singing nearby and the generator for the heating in the main tent. He turned and let an arrow go at the target, grinning as he heard the twang of the bow string followed by the impact of the arrow on the target. Oh yeah, that was the best noise.

He looked back at Bucky, who was staring at the target. “You know, I actually think they’re working better than before.”

Bucky glanced over at Tony, who had pulled out his phone and was absorbed in it. “Don’t tell him that.” Oh man, it was so much easier when you could hear people speak, Clint couldn’t stop himself from grinning with relief. “He’s got enough ego as it is.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Clint. “Thanks, though. This is great, I really appreciate it.” That seemed inadequate thanks for just how much it meant to be able to hear again, but he wasn’t really coherent enough to properly express himself.

“Seemed like the least I could do,” said Bucky, then took a deep breath. “I also wanted to apologise. I was a dick to you.”

“Yeah,” agreed Clint, although he was finding it hard to hold on to his anger over being blanked now that he had his aids back. “You gonna tell me why?”

Bucky hesitated and, okay, there was the anger again, apparently it hadn’t gone so far away after all.

Clint had had a fun flirtation and a couple of really good kisses with a hot guy he wouldn’t have minded spending more time with, and for once he’d actually had the chance to see him again because the circus wasn’t moving on to the next town immediately, but he’d been shut down as soon as he’d tried for that. And yeah, that had hurt, although he hoped Bucky hadn’t realised how much. And now he wasn’t even getting an explanation with his apology.

“You know what? Forget it,” he said, turning back to the target. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, although I guess I won’t be expecting you to speak to me.”

Bucky grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back around. “No, listen,” he said, then paused again, looking as if he was wrestling with himself. He screwed his face up and clenched his jaw. “Look, I’m not good at…at this,” he said. “That evening, when we were talking, that was kind of a fluke. I was in a good mood and I figured I was never gonna talk to you again so it didn’t matter so much, and Steve was right there.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tony, as if for reassurance. “I don’t usually talk to strangers,” he said. “And then you turned up at school and, I don’t know. I didn’t know how to react.”

“So you just ignored me,” said Clint, trying to figure out how that worked.

Bucky just shrugged again. Clint fought the urge to put his hands on his shoulders to stop him doing that. “I don’t know,” he said. “Guess I was being a coward, like you said. Guess I didn’t want to find out that you were as awesome as you seemed, because then I might have to actually do something, like talk to you, or…I don’t know. Whatever you do when you meet someone hot and interesting and funny.”

Ah, flattery. Clint could totally work with that.

“I think you’re meant to hang out with them, get to know them so they’re not intimidating any more,” he said.

Bucky looked defeated. “Yeah, I’m not great at that shit.” He ran a gloved hand through his hair, then took a step backwards. “Look, just, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned away and started back towards Tony. Clint watched the slump of his shoulders as he went, then allowed himself a moment to check out his ass.

Ah, damnit. “Hey, Bucky!” he called, and Bucky turned back. “We’re gonna hang out after school tomorrow,” he said.

Bucky’s jaw clenched then he jerked a nod. “Okay.”

Clint grinned at him, then turned back to the range and let him leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**Clint**

 

Clint hadn’t really expected to be missed at school, but when he went in the next day a touching amount of people came over to greet him and ask where he’d been for the last couple of days.

“I’m glad you’re back,” said Steve, meeting him in the parking lot. “I’m doing a circus-themed art project and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions later, to get the details right?”

“Legolas!” called Tony, slinging an arm around Clint’s shoulders as they headed to class. “How are the aids? All working out okay? Do they need any fine tuning? I’ve been thinking about it, and I reckon I can make another set with better sound definition, I just need to take a few notes from you.”

“Thank fuck you’re back,” said Sam as they sat down for English. “Tell Thor that having a Norse name doesn’t mean he should get up and start quoting Beowulf every time he’s bored with the text we’re studying.”

Bucky didn’t actually speak to him, but he did meet his eyes and give him an awkward nod, which Clint got the feeling was his version of Thor’s engulfing, back-slapping hug of joy.

When it got to lunch time and he went out to the tree to find a gap left for him to sit in and welcoming smiles from everyone there, he realised this must be what having friends was. He kinda liked it.

At the end of the day, he caught up with Bucky in the parking lot. He’d sorted out someone else coming to drive the other kids back to the circus, so for once he didn’t need to worry about the nightmare of trying to gather up the right number of kids and get them home without choking Pietro every time he made a snarky comment.

“What’s the plan?” he asked Bucky as he fell into step with him.

Bucky sent him a blank look. “You tell me. This was your idea.”

Right, helpful. Especially as what Clint really wanted was some kind of clear signal on whether Bucky was okay with this being a date -or even just a lead up to a date- or if Clint was building too much on what he’d said the other night about Clint being hot and awesome, and the way he’d kissed Clint that first time they’d met, so full of want.

Actually, more than Clint wanted that, he wanted confirmation that he wasn’t making a huge fucking mistake by letting this guy have a second chance when he’d been such a dick the first time around, but that was going to take time passing without Bucky shutting down on him again to prove that one.

“You’re the local,” said Clint. “What do people do around here when they hang out? Cuz, the only thing I ever do is shoot, so that’s the only suggestion I’ve got.”

Bucky frowned to himself. “Steve and I mostly just go to my room and play video games,” he offered.

“That could be fun,” said Clint. “I’ve never really played many video games though, so you’d probably kick my ass.”

Bucky managed a smile. “Then that’s definitely what we’ll do.”

Clint grinned back. He’d never just hung out in someone’s room and played computer games, like every other kid his age seemed to spend hours doing. As a signal on whether or not this was a date, of course, it was completely ambiguous, but he was willing to bet he’d be able to read the signals once they were settled together in Bucky’s bedroom.

“Hey, Buck, Clint,” said Steve, coming up behind them. “Ready for the weekend?”

“Feels like I’ve already had a weekend this week,” said Clint.

“Slacker,” said Bucky.

“Yep,” said Clint. “Spent those two days doing nothing at all, oh wait, except for coming up with three new tricks that will blow the minds of every audience next year, breaking the boundaries of what was previously possible with archery marksmanship.”

Or something like that. He’d definitely come up with three new tricks, he just hadn’t quite mastered actually doing them yet. Still, that was what the winter season was for, right? Spending hours shooting arrow after arrow until your shoulders ached and you could make every shot perfectly first time.

“Am I coming over tonight?” Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky hesitated, then gave a shrug. “Clint’s coming over.”

Steve gave him a look as if he’d announced he was running for president, then glanced at Clint, who just smiled at him.

“O-kay,” said Steve, slowly. “Guess I’ll head straight home then, get on with some sketches.”

“Great,” said Bucky, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. His shoulders looked so tense that Clint was worried they might crack.

Steve eyed him, clearly thinking the same thing as Clint. “I’ll walk with you guys, then get the bus.”

The tension melted out of Bucky. “Whatever,” he said with a shrug.

Okay, so Clint’s goal was to make Bucky as relaxed with him as he clearly was with Steve. Well, or at least as relaxed as he’d been with Tony yesterday, maybe Steve-the-best-friend was aiming a bit high.

“Have you decided what you’re putting Bucky as in your project?” Clint asked Steve.

Bucky frowned. “I thought I was gonna be security.”

“Nah, circuses don’t have security,” said Clint. “Any trouble just gets handled by the clowns. They’re kinda brutal, people don’t cause trouble more than once.”

“Maybe Bucky should be a clown then,” said Steve, and earned himself a dark glower from Bucky. “One of the sad gloomy ones, obviously.”

“No, no,” said Clint. “Clowns are all assholes, no one likes them except other clowns. Bucky’s gotta be something better than that.” He considered. “What have we already got? A couple of acrobats and trapeze artists, a strongman, a ringmaster—”

“A falconer,” put in Steve. “And I haven’t worked out what to do with Bruce yet.”

Clint considered. “You got any experience with horses?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve seen them. Mostly in fields.”

Right, not helpful. “Of the traditional acts,” Clint thought out loud, “we’re missing jugglers, some kinda horse act, maybe a magician, and— Oh.” He turned to grin at Bucky. “I’ve got it. Knife-thrower.”

Bucky’s face lit up. “Okay, yeah, I could go with that.”

“Oh wow,” said Steve. “I’m gonna dress you up like Zorro, it’s gonna be great.”

Bucky pointed a finger at him. “Keep it classy, though. Classy Zorro.”

Clint laughed. “Do we really think that’s possible?” Bucky glared at him and he raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I mean, if anyone could pull it off, it’d be you.”

“It’s going to be totally classy,” said Steve. “Well, I mean, classier than most of the other outfits.”

They’d stopped outside a house that Clint assumed was Bucky’s. “I reckon Bruce should be the magician,” said Bucky. “Have you ever heard him talk science with Tony? It starts sounding like some kinda mystical language after about thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, that would work,” said Steve. “Okay, I’m gonna go home and get right on that.” He gave them both a nod. “See you Monday.”

“See you,” said Clint, and he left, heading for the nearest bus stop.

“Come on,” said Bucky, pushing open the gate and heading for the front door. “We can grab a couple of sodas and go up to my room, and if we’re lucky we won’t run into any of my sisters.”

“How many do you have?” asked Clint as he unlocked the door. Inside, the house was decorated in the kind of dull pastels that he’d thought only existed in houses on TV , and there were photos of the family on every wall and surface.

“Three,” said Bucky, heading through a door that led to the kitchen. “Which is three too many, if you ask me.”

Clint’s family had been just him and Barney since he was ten, and the family who actually cared about him had been just him and Barney since years before that, so he just nodded as if he had the slightest idea what it was like to be part of a big family.

Bucky pulled a couple of sodas out of the fridge.

“Bucky, is that you?” called a voice from the other room.

“Yeah, Mom,” called back Bucky. “We’re just heading up to my room.”

“Oh, hi, Steve! I didn’t hear you there!”

Bucky rolled his eyes at Clint. “It’s not Steve, Mom.”

There was a pause, then footsteps hurried towards them. A woman wearing pink scrubs came into the kitchen, then stopped dead when she saw Clint.

“This is Clint,” said Bucky, sounding almost as awkward as Clint felt.

“Hello,” said his mom, still staring at Clint as if he was a ghost.

He gave her a half-wave. “Hi.”

She looked over at Bucky, who sighed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Mom,” he muttered, giving Clint an apologetic look.

“Cookies,” she said. “Hang on, I’ll get you some cookies.” She opened a cupboard and started rummaging.

“We don’t need cookies,” said Bucky.

“Speak for yourself,” said Clint. “I pretty much always need cookies. That’s very nice of you, Mrs Barnes.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she said, emptying enough cookies for thirty people onto a plate and then handing it to Bucky. “Have a good time, then.”

“Sure,” said Bucky, taking the plate and heading out. “C’mon, Clint.”

Clint followed him with one last glance back at Mrs Barnes, who looked like she was about to cry.

Bucky’s room was just big enough for a bed, a closet, and a TV hooked up to a console. The curtains were still shut from the morning so it took a moment for Clint’s eyes to adjust enough to see the scattered band posters on the walls and the stack of books next to the bed.

Bucky sat down on the bed and set the cookies next to him, then gestured for Clint to join him. “What kinda game do you want to play?”

Clint shrugged as he sat next to him. “Which one are you the worst at?” He ate a cookie. Damn, those were good cookies. He took another.

“I’m awesome at all of them,” said Bucky. “Obviously.” He passed Clint a controller and started a game. “This is probably the best for a beginner, though.”

About an hour passed, during which time Clint ate way too many cookies and totally mastered the game. Well, he sort of worked out most of it, anyway.

Bucky was a lot more relaxed than he ever was at school, contentedly talking smack about Clint’s gaming skills with no trace of the glare that was usually carved on his face. He looked like the hot guy Clint had met at the circus that first night, the one who’d flirted back at him and then made his knees go weak with his kisses.

He’d begun to think that guy hadn’t ever existed. It was nice to see him again.

“Okay, I’m gonna kick your ass this time,” he said as Bucky loaded a new game up.

Bucky let go of the controller and flexed his left hand a few times. He was still wearing the fingerless gloves that he always had on at school. Clint was beginning to think he slept in them.

“No chance,” he said. “You might be the expert marksman in real life, with a bow, but when it comes to electronic shooting, I’m the best.”

There was a knock on the door, then it opened without waiting for a response and a girl of about eleven came in. “Steve, will you— Oh.” She stared at Clint with the same expression her mother had. “You’re not Steve.”

“No,” agreed Clint, glancing at Bucky. “I’m beginning to think that’s a capital offence in this house.”

Bucky scowled at the girl. “Go away, Chrissie.”

The girl stared for a moment longer at Clint, then dashed off. “EMMA!! EMMA! BUCKY’S GOT A FRIEND OVER AND IT ISN’T STEVE!!” she hollered as her feet pounded through the house.

Bucky let out a tired noise and tipped his head back to rest against the wall.

“So, I’m getting the feeling you don’t have a lot of people over who aren’t Steve,” said Clint as the game finished loading and the countdown to begin started.

“Yeah?” said Bucky, lifting his head and getting ready. “Where you getting that from? You must be some kinda crazy psychic.”

Clint grinned. “The fortune teller passed all her knowledge on to me,” he said. “I can also tell you’re gonna meet a tall, dark stranger and go on a long journey.”

“If it gets me away from these guys, I’m totally up for that,” said Bucky. “I think I’d prefer the stranger to be blond, though. And maybe not a stranger.” 

He glanced at Clint’s hair, then back at the screen. Clint couldn’t keep in his grin, and leaned sideways to nudge an elbow into Bucky’s side. If Bucky was flirting with him, even as clumsily as that, then he probably didn’t just think they were hanging out as friends, right? “I reckon that can be arranged.”

Bucky leaned his shoulder against Clint’s, a solid warm weight that stayed there while he kicked Clint’s ass at the game.

Bucky’s mom appeared in the doorway about ten minutes later. “Is Clint staying for dinner?”

“It’s up to you,” said Bucky to Clint, “but be aware they will interrogate you if you do.”

Clint looked out the window, where it was already starting to get dark, and shook his head. As great as it was to sit here with Bucky’s body pressed against his, he did have things he probably should be doing. “Nah, I need to get back. Thanks, though.”

“Okay,” she said, then hovered a moment longer. “You’re always welcome,” she added, then left.

Clint looked at Bucky, who sighed. “Look, they’re just kinda excited, okay? I told you yesterday, I don’t really talk to people. Other than Steve, of course.”

“Of course,” repeated Clint. “I’m flattered then, I guess. Hopefully this wasn’t too horrific for you.”

Bucky glanced at the door, which had been left half open by his mother, then back at Clint. “It was great,” he said. He hesitated, then reached out to clasp a hand over Clint’s where it was still holding a controller. “Thanks for ignoring how much of an asshole I’ve been.”

Okay, so, the signals all seemed pretty clear that Bucky was thinking of this as more a date thing than a friendship thing, which meant there was no way Clint was leaving without getting to kiss him again, hopefully pushing things back to where he’d wanted them to go when he’d arrived at school that first day and seen Bucky in the parking lot.

And making tomorrow the real litmus test on whether or not Bucky was going to follow through on not being an asshole this time around, or if Clint was about to get the cold shoulder again. It had come out of nowhere last time, after all, it could happen again.

Clint put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to kiss him, leaning in close and taking his time before he moved away. Bucky kissed back with just as much eagerness, proving Clint right. Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be a thing. “No problem,” he said. “Any time, although if you can maybe avoid being an asshole after this, that would be great too.”

“I’ll do my very best,” said Bucky, and kissed him again. “I gotta say, if we’re gonna keep doing this, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. It’s hard to be an asshole when I’m kissing you.”

“Awesome,” said Clint, and kissed him again.

Footsteps clattered down the hall towards them and he pulled away, putting enough distance between them to make this look innocent.

A girl of about Wanda’s age stuck her head in. “Huh,” she said. “I thought Chrissie must be kidding.”

“Go away, Becca,” said Bucky. 

She ignored him. “I know you,” she said to Clint. “You’re from the circus.”

“That’s right,” agreed Clint. “I’m the Amazing Hawkeye.”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s a stupid name.”

Clint blinked. “Okay, thanks.” He looked at Bucky. “Guess I’ve found the one member of your family who isn’t impressed just by the fact that I’m not Steve.” He got up from the bed, bending down to put on the shoes he’d kicked off some time during their first game. “I’ve got to go, I need to get back before dark.”

“Or you’ll turn into a pumpkin?” asked Becca.

“Becca, would you just leave him alone?” said Bucky, standing up as well. With three people standing up in it, his room was very small. 

Clint straightened and picked up his coat and school bag. “I haven’t done any shooting today,” he said. “I know you’re not impressed by my marksmanship, but loads of people are, and I need to make sure they stay impressed.”

“You shoot every day?” asked Bucky.

“Yeah,” said Clint. He hesitated, glancing at Becca, then back at Bucky. “You know, you could come over tomorrow and I could show you? Maybe give you a lesson?”

Bucky hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

“I could walk you over,” offered Becca. A look passed between them, then Bucky shook his head again.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Okay, guess I’ll see you Monday, then,” said Clint, filing the moment away to examine later, and add in with all the other little clues he had as to exactly what was going on with Bucky. There was definitely some kind of secret there, but he didn’t think it was his place to go prying. Not yet, anyway. He was kinda hoping that if things between them kept going the way they were, he and Bucky would end up a lot closer, and he’d find out about it then.

****

**Steve**

 

It wasn’t a great weekend for Steve’s mom, but she seemed much better on Monday morning. She was up and dressed when he left for the school bus, sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee and talking about maybe making it to the store later on.

When he knocked on Bucky’s door to pick him up, Bucky seemed to be in a good mood as well, although it wasn’t always easy to tell with him.

“Good weekend?” Steve asked.

Bucky shrugged. “It was okay.”

“More to the point, good Friday night?” asked Steve with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky rolled his eyes but there was a quirk at the corner of his mouth that was almost a smile. “You’re such a gossip, Rogers.”

“Yeah,” agreed Steve, without shame. “Hey, did Clint tell you who broke his hearing aids? I meant to ask him on Friday.”

Bucky shook his head. “We didn’t talk about it.”

Steve would have to ask Clint about that today, then. If they were going to put this anti-bullying squad idea into action, they needed to know who to keep an eye on. Actually, they should ask around to find out who else was known as a bully.

“Does Becca have any problems with bullies?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t think so. People know she’s my sister.”

And Bucky had put a lot of effort into making sure everyone was terrified of him, so that they wouldn’t try and get close. Steve nodded slowly. “She’d know which seniors were assholes to the other kids in her year though,” he said. “Do you want to ask her if she’d get a list of people we should be keeping an eye on?”

“You’re really doing this?” asked Bucky. “Some kinda vigilante thing?”

“It’s not a vigilante thing, it’s a protecting people thing,” said Steve. “If the kind of guys that would break Clint’s hearing aids are going around terrorising people at our school, we need to step up and do something to stop them. Could you really just stand by and let it happen?”

Bucky shrugged, but didn’t say anything. He shoved his bad hand into his pocket and his shoulders hunched over, and Steve felt like a dick. Bucky had come a long way since that rough summer when he’d just got out of hospital but refused to leave the house, but that didn’t mean he was up for going after bullies and putting himself in the line of fire like that.

Not for the first time, Steve thought about what it would be like to get hold of the assholes who had hurt Bucky. That might be verging more towards vigilantism, but they deserved it.

Tony and Pepper were waiting at Steve’s locker for him.

“I’ve spoken to Coulson, and set up a meeting with Fury for recess,” said Pepper.

“Already?” asked Steve.

Tony grinned. “She’s scary efficient.”

Pepper sent him a black look, then turned back to Steve. “I thought it would be best if the two of us went to represent the group. It’ll look better if we’ve got a girl, so it’s not just a male testosterone thing, and I know you’ve got a good reputation with teachers.”

“You mean, he’s a goody-two-shoes,” said Tony, grinning. “I’m gonna come as well, by the way.”

Pepper turned a frown on him. “You’re coming? Are you kidding? That’s a terrible idea.”

“What, because I’m not a girl?” asked Tony. “Because I don’t have a bad record, not at this school, I’ve been a freaking saint in some ways.”

“No,” said Pepper, “because you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut.”

Tony gaped at her with shock, clasping his hands to his breast.

“She has a point,” said Steve. “You kinda rub people up the wrong way.”

The look Tony turned on him was even more disbelieving, but rapidly collapsed into a smirk. “Actually, I can give you several names for people who’d tell you I rubbed them up in all the right ways,” he said, and gave a sleazy wink.

Steve sighed and turned to open his locker. “I’m thinking that’s the kinda thing Pepper’s worried about.”

“And yet, shockingly, I do actually know how to moderate my behaviour depending on my audience,” said Tony. Pepper gave him a disbelieving look and he shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, I don’t usually do it, but I am capable.”

“I guess seeing’s believing,” said Steve. “If you want to come along, then fine.”

Pepper pointed a finger at Tony’s face and fixed him with a determined look. “If you mess it up for us, I’ll make sure that not a single cheerleader even so much as looks at you, let alone sleeps with you,” she said, then turned on her heel and strode off.

Steve watched her go, then glanced back at Tony who was also watching her. “I guess she knows her audience.”

“Oh yeah,” said Tony. “She likes to tailor her threats. Too late though, I’m done sleeping with cheerleaders. Looking for something a bit more meaningful.”

He was giving Steve a look that implied he should know what that meant, but Steve had no idea. If Tony had set his sights on an actual relationship with someone then he hadn’t given any sign of it to Steve.

Good for him though, maybe it would make him act in a more mature manner. Steve pushed aside the unhelpful stab of jealousy at the idea of Tony being with someone else more permanently and said, “I’m sure the girls you’ve slept with would love to hear you talk about them like that.”

Tony snorted. “Please, I make no pretenses. Everyone I have a casual fling with knows it’s casual, especially the cheerleaders.”

To Tony’s credit, that was probably true. He never kept a secret of his intentions, which was one of the things Steve liked about him. You always knew exactly where you stood with him.

“I guess as long as whoever you’re looking for meaningful with knows it’s different,” said Steve, closing his locker.

A thoughtful look passed over Tony’s face. “Huh. Yeah, okay, good point, I’ll make sure I make that clear.” He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “I’ll see you at recess,” he said, then headed off.

Steve watched him go. What the hell had that been about?

****

The meeting with Principal Fury went surprisingly well, mostly because Pepper had apparently spent the weekend doing a huge amount of research on student-led anti-bullying schemes, and had gathered all the data to present to Fury. Steve was more than impressed.

“That’s why she’s the most efficient head cheerleader this school has ever had,” said Tony as they left with Fury’s approval and Mr. Coulson assigned as a supervisor. “Research and presentation.”

“If you’re going to persuade people, you need to give them all the evidence to support you,” said Pepper. “I’ll speak to Coulson later on to confirm, but I think we’re going to be able to have our first meeting at lunch tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” said Tony, bouncing on his heels. “I trust you’ll have colour-coordinated agendas for everyone?”

Pepper sent him an unamused look. “If I thought for a second I could get you to stick to an agenda, I might.”

Tony just grinned at her until she rolled her eyes, although Steve could see amusement in her eyes.

Oh. Oh, of course. He should have figured that Tony had been talking about Pepper this morning. The head cheerleader and the billionaire’s son, it was basically obligatory.

He swallowed down his disappointment because he was being stupid and he didn’t even want to be with Tony. “I should get to class.”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” said Tony, and he and Pepper headed off to their next class together. Steve didn’t let himself watch them go.

****

Tony came to sit with them at lunch again, bringing both Pepper and Rhodey with him.

“I’ve arranged with Coulson that we can meet in his classroom at lunch tomorrow,” said Pepper. “Spread the word to anyone else who might be interested. We don’t want this to get too cliquey.”

“I like cliquey,” said Natasha, then glanced over at Bucky. “No strangers, right?”

Bucky was between Steve and Clint, but leaning closer to Clint, eyeing his lunch of cold pizza. He glanced up at Natasha, then over at Steve. “I don’t remember saying I was gonna join up.”

Clint nudged an elbow into his side. “You’re not gonna fight the good fight?”

Bucky just shrugged at him. “Not sure I’m interested in any kinda fight, good or bad.”

“And now I’ve got _You’ve gotta fight, for your right, to party_ going around my head,” said Bruce, with a long-suffering sigh.

Tony laughed with delight, his eyes glittering with amusement. Steve watched how his face lit up with it, then forced himself to look away. No more mooning over Tony, not if he was going to get together with Pepper. “Not _fight the good fight every moment_?”

“Not everyone is into songs that were old when their parents were young, Tony,” said Rhodey.

“You mean, not everyone appreciates the classics like they should,” said Tony. “Philistines, you’re all philistines.” He looked over at Steve. “C’mon, Steve, I’ve seen your wardrobe, you’re into retro cool, right? You get what I’m saying?”

Steve ignored the jab at his clothes, which tended to be whatever the thrift store had that looked the least like it came from the thrift store, and sent Tony a grin. “Sure,” he said. “I’m a fan of the classics. Glenn Miller, that’s where it’s at.”

Tony groaned and put his face in his hands. “That’s where it’s at?” he repeated, in a despairing voice. “Even your slang is outdated.”

Steve felt his grin grow wider.

“Hey,” said Clint to Bucky, “are you really not joining this club?”

He’d probably meant it to be a quiet aside, but it was slightly too loud for that. Steve had noticed that he sometimes misjudged volume when he spoke, and wondered just how well his aids worked, even after getting the Tony Stark treatment.

“I would have thought you would be eager to support such an endeavour,” added Thor, his voice booming loudly enough for the whole group to hear, “after your accident.”

Steve winced as the rest of the group fell silent. He saw Natasha, who was next to Thor, jam a finger into his ribs, but the damage was already done. Bucky froze, and his expression walled over as he glared at Thor.

“What accident?” asked Clint, then glanced around at everyone’s faces and clearly realised this was a minefield. “Uh, I mean—”

“It wasn’t a fucking accident,” snapped Bucky. “I’m fucking sick of everyone calling it that. It was an attack.” He stood up, grabbing up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “And it’s got fuck all to do with whether I join your stupid club or not.” 

He stormed off in the direction of the school building, and Steve knew he was heading for his favourite brooding spot, up on the roof. He itched to go after him, but that would only make things worse.

He turned his glare back on Thor instead, who was watching Bucky go with the expression of a kicked puppy. He caught Steve’s glare and held up his hands. “I am sorry,” he said. “I did not realise it was still such a sore spot.”

“I told you, we don’t talk about it in front of Bucky,” said Natasha.

“We don’t talk about it behind his back, either,” said Steve, looking around at the group to make sure they were all on the same page.

“Hey, don’t glare at me, man,” said Clint. “This is the first I’ve heard about it.” He glanced after Bucky with a look that made Steve think he was just as tempted to go after him as Steve was.

Steve sighed. If Clint was going to be friends with Bucky, or maybe something else if he was reading the signs right, he probably needed a hint or two about this.

“Bucky got hurt halfway through freshman year,” he said. “He had a few months out to recover. If he wants you to know about it, he’ll tell you, otherwise it’s better not to say anything about it.”

“Or about his arm,” added Natasha.

Clint gave her a blank look. “What about his arm?”

Steve and Natasha exchanged looks.

“You’re not the most observant spark, are you?” said Tony. “His arm, the one he keeps a glove on 24/7 and buries inside his hoodie and never uses unless he has to.”

“Oh, that,” said Clint, slowly. “I figured that was just some kinda angsty teenage hunching thing.”

“Well, okay, he also does that,” said Tony with a shrug.

“We’re not going to talk about him like this when he’s not here,” said Steve, fixing Tony with a firm glare. “He’d hate that.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” said Tony. “So, is everyone else definitely joining up?”

The conversation moved on, but Steve couldn’t help glancing up at the roof, where he was willing to bet Bucky was hunched up against a wall and sulkily smoking. Once or twice, he caught Clint doing the same thing.

****

“I thought you were interested in helping with the club,” Steve said to Bucky as they headed out to the parking lot at the end of the day.

Bucky shrugged. “I like the idea, just not sure it’s my kinda thing,” he said.

There was a defensive note in his voice that Steve had heard before, usually when he was claiming not to want to do something when they both knew that, really, he was just too scared to do.

When they’d first been talking about it, Bucky had been as enthusiastic as Steve ever saw him these days, but maybe the reality of it being more than just the handful of people Bucky was comfortable with had put him off.

Clint jogged up behind them and fell into step beside Bucky. “Hey, you heading straight home?”

Steve let his attention drift away to where Tony was talking to Pepper by his car. His hand grazed over her arm as he made some grand gesture and there was a smile on his face, but it didn’t look like his usual flirting smile. But then, would it, if he meant it as more than a casual fling this time?

“I was planning on it,” said Bucky. “Why, do you want to come back with me again?”

Clint snorted. “I think I freaked your family out enough on Friday by, you know, existing while not being Steve.”

“What’s this?” asked Steve, ripping his eyes away from Tony to look at them.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You know what my family are like. They kinda made it into a big deal that I had a friend over who wasn’t you.”

“I got cookies,” said Clint, with a grin. “Lots of cookies.”

Steve sniggered, earning a glare from Bucky. “Shut up,” he muttered, kicking out at Steve’s ankle.

“Actually, I was gonna see if you wanted to come to mine,” said Clint. “I mean, I can’t promise you cookies, but I could show you some archery shots and there won’t be any family interruptions. I haven’t even seen Barney for days.”

Bucky looked very tempted for a moment and Steve thought he might actually go for it, but then he shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Hey, Steve!” called Tony, stepping over from his car as Clint tried to hide his disappointment with a shrug. “You want a lift home? I still need to prove I’m a safe driver.” He glanced at Bucky. “We can drop you on the way, if you want.”

Pepper seemed to have disappeared somewhere. Steve wondered if she’d shot Tony down, but he didn’t look as if he’d just had his heart broken. He had his hands shoved in his pockets but he was grinning at Steve and his shoulders were relaxed.

A thought occurred to Steve. “Have you got plans for this afternoon?”

Tony shrugged. “I was gonna fiddle with a couple of tech ideas, nothing I wouldn’t abandon in a heartbeat to hang out with you, goldilocks.”

“Awesome,” said Steve, and looked over at Bucky. “How about all three of us go with Clint, then Tony gives us a lift home after?”

Bucky hesitated, then glanced at Clint, who raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re all welcome,” he said, but he didn’t look at Steve or Tony, and Steve had a feeling that he meant _You’re welcome to bring whoever you want as long as I get to spend time with you_.

“Okay, fine then,” said Bucky, like they’d twisted his arm, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Awesome,” said Tony, throwing his car keys up in the air and catching them. “Anyone going to ask my opinion? No? Just gonna railroad me into playing chauffeur, right, I get it.”

“Don’t complain too much,” said Bucky. “Someone might think you mean it.” A pointed look passed between him and Tony, and Steve found himself frowning. What would Bucky and Tony have to share looks over?

“Okay, okay,” said Tony. “I am overjoyed to be part of this outing, any chance to hang out with my favourite blond is welcome.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping you’re talking about me,” said Clint.

“Bad news, Scrappy-Doo,” said Tony. He gave Steve’s shoulder a meaningful pat and Steve found himself fighting back a blush at the insinuation. It didn’t mean anything, it was just the usual flirty crap that Tony was always coming out with. He pulled out his phone to start dialing his mom, then swore to himself as it shut down with the little sad beep that meant the battery had given up the ghost again. Bucky pulled his phone out and handed it over without even looking.

“Aw man,” said Clint, clasping at his chest as if heartbroken. 

Bucky cleared his throat. “If it helps, you’re my favourite blond.”

Clint gave him a beaming grin. “Oh yeah, that helps. That helps a lot.” 

Which meant Steve wasn’t Bucky’s favourite blond any more. He hadn’t even known there was a risk of him losing that title.

Steve’s mom answered so he tore his eyes away from the happy look on Bucky’s face and took a couple of steps away to talk to her. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Yes, you can go to Bucky’s,” she replied. “You know, you really don’t have to call every time.”

He did, because even though she always said that, he could tell from her voice whether or not it was true.

“Actually, we’re going to hang out at the circus,” he said. “Clint wants to teach us archery.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun,” she said. “Don’t even think about coming back until you’ve hit the bullseye.”

“Understood,” he said, and hung up, turning back to the others and giving Bucky a nod as he gave back his phone.

Clint glanced over at the minivan, where a group of bored-looking kids were waiting for him. “I need to get these guys loaded before they wander off, I’ll see you there, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” said Tony, then he glanced at Steve, and gestured towards his car with a bow. “Your chariot awaits.”

Bucky glanced between them, then over at the minivan. “Is there space in there for me?”

“Oh _hell_ yes, there is,” said Clint. “Plenty of space.”

Bucky glanced at Steve. “I’m riding with him,” he said, jerking a thumb at Clint.

Steve did his best not to beam at him like a proud mother hen. From the scowl Bucky gave him, he didn’t think he succeeded.

****

**Clint**

 

“About time, slowcoach,” said Pietro as Clint unlocked the van. “I thought we were going to die of exposure.”

“This is Pietro,” Clint said to Bucky. “Ignore everything he says, he’s an ass.”

“I am, it’s true,” said Pietro as the others started to climb into the van. “Is he coming with us?” he asked Clint.

“Yep,” said Clint, ignoring the smirk Pietro gave him. “Get in before I leave you behind, would you?”

Pietro jumped in the van, settling next to Wanda and starting a conversation in Sokovian with her.

“He’s Wanda’s brother?” asked Bucky.

“Yep,” said Clint, double-checking that everyone had their seatbelts on, then slamming the door and heading for the driver’s side. “They’re twins.”

Bucky frowned as he climbed in shotgun. “He’s still in middle school, right?”

“Yeah, well, Wanda reads massive tomes and thinks deeply about things in her spare time, and Pietro runs about like a loon, interrupts anyone trying to tell him something and has the attention span of a gnat,” said Clint, and shrugged. “Plus, he only gets half a year in school at a time.”

He could feel himself bracing for Bucky to be rude about someone retaking a grade, and the surge of shame that would follow, but Bucky just nodded, then glanced over at where Tony was pulling out of the parking lot. From the look on Steve’s face, the two of them were already bickering.

Bucky looked tense and Clint made a mental note to try and keep within sight of Tony’s car as much as possible. He hadn’t really got all the nuances of the exchange earlier, but it was pretty clear that Bucky was only coming with Clint because Steve and Tony were coming as well. Which, okay, if that was what it took, Clint was more than happy to invite the whole school along.

It was possible he’d let himself get too emotionally involved too quickly, especially as he was only going to be in town for a few months. Eh, given his track record, he’d manage to fuck things up long before it became time for the circus to move on. May as well enjoy it while it lasted.

“D’you think they’ll argue the whole way?” he asked.

“Yep,” said Bucky. “And probably the whole time we’re there as well.” He glanced over at Clint. “I guess I should apologise for dragging them along.”

“Nope,” said Clint, speeding up to get through a red light after Tony. “Totally fine, no problem at all. Plus, I kinda enjoy watching them entirely fail to realise they’re both crushing on each other.”

Bucky groaned and pushed a hand through his hair. “Those fucking idiots,” he said. “I’ve been watching them fail to flirt with each other since Tony arrived, it’s been fucking painful.” He hesitated, then added, “And, don’t tell Steve, but I told Tony I’d help get them together.”

Clint laughed. “Oh man, what the hell made you think that was a good idea?”

Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug. “I kinda needed a favour from him, and it was the only bribe I could think of.”

Clint opened his mouth to ask what the hell kind of favour was worth that headache, then had a sudden flash of Tony lounging against his caravan while Bucky awkwardly handed Clint his repaired aids. He bit hard at the inside of his mouth to stop himself protesting that Bucky shouldn’t have agreed to working behind his best friend’s back for Clint’s sake.

“Gotta be honest, I kinda thought it would be easier,” Bucky added.

Clint pulled the van into the circus grounds, bumping over the grass to where the minibus was usually parked, behind the Maximoffs’ trailer. Tony had already parked but he and Steve hadn’t got out yet. Steve was violently gesturing at some part of the car while Tony leaned back in his seat, smirking at him over his sunglasses. How the hell had Bucky thought that was going to be easy?

“Yeah, you might have bitten off more than you can chew,” said Clint.

Bucky followed his gaze and sighed. “Such bullshit,” he muttered. “Like the whole freaking world doesn’t know that Steve’s got a mad crush on the asshole. He barely talks about anything else.”

Wanda opened the back door and the kids started piling out, heading off across the circus grounds to wherever their parents had set up their trailers. Pietro and Wanda were the last out, Pietro pausing to yell, “No heavy petting in the van!” at them before he shut the door.

Clint did his very best not to go pink, carefully not meeting Bucky’s eye.

Bucky snorted. “That kinda sounded like a challenge.” He gave Clint a sideways look that was half provocation, half nerves.

Okay, this guy was awesome. Totally worth the first couple of weeks of being made to feel like shit and the emotional landmines that Clint occasionally walked right into. He grinned at Bucky and raised one eyebrow. “I’m game if you are.”

Bucky blinked as if he hadn’t expected that response, which, what? Clint hadn’t been exactly subtle with how gone he was on him. It didn’t take more than a second for Bucky to jump on board though, and lean over and to kiss Clint, one hand curling around his shoulder as he moved in closer.

There was a thump on the hood and Bucky flinched and pulled away. Tony grinned at them and waved. “C’mon, lovebirds, I was promised someone was going to amaze me with their archery skills, and it’s not going to be Steve.”

Clint sighed.

“Maybe bringing them was a mistake,” muttered Bucky, then made a face that Clint couldn’t quite read, but which looked like a mix of irritation and regret.

Clint patted his thigh. “Nah, gives us a chance to get them set up, right?” he said, then climbed out of the van.

“One amazing, incredible, awe-inspiring archery display coming up,” he said. “And then we’ll see about giving Steve a chance to impress you, yeah?”

Steve snorted. “I don’t know about that.”

“Where’s your confidence, Stevie?” asked Bucky, coming around the van to slap Steve’s shoulder. “I’m willing to put money on you being better than Tony.”

Steve’s eyes lit up with the light of challenge and he turned to Tony with a slowly spreading grin. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

Tony grinned back as if he couldn’t help himself. Maybe setting these guys up would turn out to be easier than Clint had thought.

He took them over to the range set up behind his trailer, grabbing his favourite bow and a couple of his spares.

“Right,” he said. “Archery 101. Who’s up for it?”

Tony and Steve both grabbed a bow and squared up to the targets. Bucky offered Clint a shrug. “I’m good just watching,” he said. He was starting to look hunched over again, so Clint didn’t push it.

“Okay then,” he said, turning back to Steve and Tony. “Let’s see who can master this the quickest. You want to be doing it something like this.” He threw a quiver over his shoulder and took a moment to settle his shoulders, then shot off three arrows in a row, thump thump thump right in the bullseye, then sent a fourth one from behind his back that sunk right in next to them, then capped it by turning away towards Bucky, giving him a grin, and shooting the fifth without even looking.

Tony let out a low whistle. “Okay, feeling slightly intimidated.”

Steve hefted his bow. “If you want to just give in now…”

“Oh no,” said Tony, pulling out an arrow and lining it up with completely the wrong grip. “I may not be able to do that, but I can definitely beat your ass.” He sent a wink at Steve. “Or do other things to your ass, you just say the word.”

Steve sent him a glare, clearly missing just how serious Tony actually was, and turned to face the target with a determined expression. “How do we do this?” he asked Clint.

“Well, look at what Tony’s doing right now, and do pretty much the opposite,” said Clint, and stepped in to show him how to hold the bow.

He wasn’t the greatest teacher, but it was easy enough to show Steve and Tony how to shoot, then give them a target and a quiver of arrows each and join Bucky on the sidelines so that they could heckle them.

“You’re meant to be aiming at the target, not the grass,” said Bucky helpfully, as Tony failed to give an arrow enough power to reach the target.

“Just think, what would Robin Hood do?” added Clint.

Tony snorted as he pulled out another arrow, “No way am I dressing in Lincoln green,” he said, fitting it to the string. “I’ve got a rep, you know.” He gritted his teeth as he pulled the string back and let fly. The arrow hit the target on the outer rim and he sighed.

Steve sent one flying as well, managing to get it ever so slightly closer to the centre than Tony’s. He gave a self-satisfied grin. Tony’s eyes narrowed and he turned to glare at the target as if he could set it on fire if he just glared hard enough.

Clint nudged Bucky with his elbow. “Sure you don’t want to try? I’ve got another bow.”

“Nah,” said Bucky, shortly.

Steve glanced over. “I can lend you an arm if you want? Just brace it while you aim?”

Bucky shook his head very firmly with a black scowl, and Clint finally put together his refusal to shoot with the way he’d shoved his left arm deep down into his hoodie pocket and felt like an idiot. Of course Bucky wasn’t going to be able to do archery if he had an injured arm. Clint must have been making him feel like shit every time he asked.

He watched Tony and Steve shoot a few more arrows each, absently noting that they were getting better but that at some point he should give them some advice on their stances, and show Steve how to release without pulling to the right. 

There must be some way he could get Bucky shooting that wouldn’t make him get all grumpy about needing help. Something that wouldn’t put any strain on one of his arms.

Oh. Oh, of course.

Clint patted Bucky’s arm. “Be right back. Don’t let them do anything dangerous.”

“You gave Tony Stark a projectile weapon,” said Bucky. “I think that ship already sailed.”

Clint nipped into the caravan and rifled through the pile of assorted archery detritus until he found the crossbow he was looking for, then he scrambled around for a handful of bolts.

When he bounded back out of the caravan to Bucky’s side and held it up. “Crossbow,” he said. “My second favourite way of shooting a stick into a target, and you can shoot it one armed, especially if I load it for you. Better?”

Bucky glanced at it, then back at Clint. “Yeah, okay, let’s give it a try.”

The best part of teaching Bucky to shoot, which Clint hadn’t really cared about with Tony or Steve, was standing behind him and guiding his body into the right stance. He might have stayed wrapped around Bucky for several shots after he’d pretty much got the hang of it, but it wasn’t as if Bucky really seemed to mind. 

Bucky was a better aim than either Tony or Steve. The first time he got one in the innermost circle, grazing next to the bullseye, he celebrated by turning to Clint and kissing him. Clint was so very okay with that.

“Hey, Steve, apparently we need to kiss if we get a good shot in,” said Tony. “Are you okay with that?”

“Sure, if you ever manage a good shot,” said Steve, loosing another arrow and edging it closer to the target. “When I get a bullseye, I reckon I’m going to go for Clint. He does have those sexy archer biceps.” He sent a look over at Bucky, who went vaguely pink, to Clint’s very great interest.

“No offence, Steve, but you’re going to need a lot more than a bullseye to get a kiss from me,” said Clint. “You might be better off sticking to Tony.”

Steve rolled his eyes in a way that made it clear he had no idea just how serious they were all being. A look of frustration crossed Tony’s face and he turned back to the target, sending an arrow with enough force to make the target rock backwards.

Bucky turned out to be the best shot by some distance, which Clint found more of a turn on than he’d have expected. Well, okay, maybe he should have seen that coming, given how he felt about arrows and shooting in general, and Bucky in particular.

Tony proved himself better than Steve though, which came with some obnoxious boasting. Steve endured it better than Clint probably would have.

“Further proof that Starks are always the best,” said Tony, holding his arms up and grinning around at them. “Or maybe just that I’m the best.” He beamed at Steve. “So, do I get that kiss?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nope,” he said. “Try Clint.”

“Clint’s kisses are already reserved,” said Bucky, putting a possessive arm around Clint’s shoulders. Clint leaned into him, giving Tony a grin that probably came across as unbearably smug.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, I get it. You’re all too intimidated by my awesome.”

“Steve’s too intimidated by your awesome,” said Bucky. “Me and Clint, we’re too distracted by how much more awesome we both are.”

“Completely accurate,” agreed Clint, leaning over to kiss Bucky again.

Tony let out a long sigh. “Remind me why I came again?”

“So you could show off your fancy car by giving us a ride,” said Steve. “Speaking of, Bucky, I’m gonna have to head back soon.”

Clint quashed the immediate surge of disappointment. He should probably get some actual practice in and not just mess about with amateurs.

Bucky made a face, but nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, then looked at Clint. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Ah, come on, it’s early,” said Tony. “We could head to the mall, get a soda? Or, wait, we’re close to Hancock Park, I love that place, let’s get coffee and hang out there.”

Steve shook his head. “No, I need to get home.”

Intense frustration passed very briefly over Tony’s face, then he bounced on his heels and clapped his hands. “Okay, fine then. If we’re going, let’s get going. See you tomorrow, Sherwood.” He turned and started heading back towards his car without bothering to say more.

Steve made an irritated noise and glanced at Clint. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I’ll speak to him.”

“No worries,” said Clint. “I’ll see you at school.”

Steve nodded distractedly as he set off after Tony.

“Well, I guess that’s the argument I’ll be listening to on the way home,” said Bucky, with a sigh.

Clint kissed him again to stop himself suggesting he stick around a bit longer and avoid it, because he wasn’t going to pressure the guy, no matter how much he wanted to. Bucky kissed him back, shifting to put his arms around Clint properly and Clint allowed himself a moment of pure enjoyment before he pulled away.

“I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

“Yep,” agreed Bucky. “Unless Tony and Steve drive me to homicide on the way home and I end up in jail. You’d wait for me to serve a life sentence, right?”

Clint considered that. “I dunno, I get kinda impatient,” he said. “Probably best not to risk it.”

“Then I guess I better get going,” said Bucky, but he didn’t move immediately, which gave Clint another chance to kiss him before he stepped away, sent Clint an awkward and bemused smile, and headed after the others.

Clint watched him go for a moment before turning back to the range. Right, time to get some real work done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Clint**

 

When Clint pulled up in the parking lot the next morning, Bucky was leaning against a wall and smoking. He raised a hand in greeting and Clint cheerfully waved back.

“Ah, love’s young dream,” said Pietro, clasping his hands over his heart. 

Clint shoved an elbow into his side. “Get going, brat, before I decide to take you down to kindergarten instead.”

Pietro made a face but jumped out and Clint glanced over at Bucky again to see that he’d half-turned to talk to someone behind him, someone who was better at hiding from the rest of the school when he was smoking.

The others had all made it out of the van, so Clint grabbed his bag and got out, locking the door and then glancing back at Bucky to see if he was coming over or if Clint should head towards him.

His blood froze. The guy Bucky had been talking to had emerged from the shadow of the building and Clint recognised him instantly. He said something else to Bucky, who rolled his eyes then started to head over to Clint.

For a moment, Clint almost turned and ran, but he held his ground. Just because Bucky chatted to a guy while they were both smoking didn’t mean Clint was about to find out that he’d made a huge mistake in giving Bucky a second chance.

“Hey,” said Bucky, once he was close enough. “How’s it going?”

Clint ignored the question. “You friends with that guy?” he asked, nodding over towards where the guy had emerged from behind the wall with a couple of friends who Clint also recognised.

Bucky glanced over. “Brock? Not really.” He shrugged. “We smoke together.”

“Just that?” asked Clint. “You’re not part of his gang, or whatever?”

Bucky stared at him, then raised an eyebrow. “At what point have I indicated I have the social skills to be in anyone’s gang?” he asked. “Hell, I’m barely in _Steve’s_ gang.”

Okay, that was a good point. Clint took a deep breath and let his logic flow back in. Of course Bucky wasn’t secretly hanging out with Brock at all hours of the day and night when he couldn’t even come over to the circus without Steve to hold his hand.

“What’s this all about, anyway?” asked Bucky.

Clint offered a shrug. “He’s the guy that smashed my aids.”

Bucky’s whole face shut down, and he looked over at where Brock and his friends were heading inside. “Brock was?” he growled, and, wow, that was impressively low and thrummed something in Clint’s stomach that he wasn’t going to investigate too closely right now.

“Yeah, well, him and three or four others, but he was definitely the leader.” And he’d hit Clint a couple of times, but he wasn’t bothered about that. He’d been hit before, he was bound to be hit again, what did a few bruises matter? His aids though, they mattered.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and Clint realised his hand was squeezed into a fist. “I want to kill him.”

“Hey, whoa,” said Clint, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Bucky’s. His glove felt rough under his grip. “Chill. No point in getting in a fight, there’s too many of them.” Which is what he’d told himself every time he let himself think about punching their smug, annoying faces in too much.

Bucky didn’t relax. If anything, he got tenser, then he made a frustrated noise deep in his throat. “Couldn’t anyway,” he said. “Too fucking _weak_.”

He turned and stalked off into the school before Clint could counter that, striding past the people as if he didn’t even see them and knocking into a few. Clint saw Steve try to catch him as he went by and just get pushed aside.

Okay, so maybe that could have gone better.

****

Clint was expecting to see Bucky in History, if not before, but his seat remained empty for the whole period. He glanced over his shoulder at Steve, who was also frowning at the empty seat, but all he got was a helpless shrug.

He began to get a bad feeling. Well, okay, he’d had the bad feeling since he’d seen the look on Bucky’s face this morning, but it developed into a sick sensation in his stomach that only got worse when lunchtime came and Bucky wasn’t waiting under the tree with his trademark scowl.

Clint was getting fonder of that scowl than was probably wise.

Steve took one look at the empty place where Bucky should be and turned on Clint. “What did you say to him this morning?”

“Nothing,” said Clint, holding his hands up defensively, and then amended that. “Well, no, okay, not nothing, but nothing that should have chased him off, he was just kinda pissed.” Steve’s eyes narrowed at him. “Not at me!” clarified Clint. “Not at me, I swear, at someone else because of what I said, please don’t kill me.”

Some of the murder faded out of Steve’s eyes. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said in blatant disregard of the look on his face. “I just want to make sure Bucky’s okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Clint. “You think he went home?”

Steve shook his head. “He wouldn’t want his parents to know he was cutting, and there’s no one to walk back with him. He’ll be around here somewhere, brooding.”

Clint found his eyes flicking up to the place on the roof where he’d run into Bucky before. Steve followed his gaze. “Yeah, probably,” he said, then shrugged. “If he’s up there, he won’t want company.”

Clint made a face. “He’s kind of a minefield, huh?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Steve glared at him with a look like thunder. “If you’re not going to be understanding about the shit he’s been through, it’d be better if you just walked away now,” he said. “Bucky’s issues aren’t going to go away overnight just because you make out with him a couple of times, and you need to be prepared for that.”

“No, no, I don’t— I’m not going to walk away,” said Clint. “At least, not unless he asks me to.” Or started ignoring Clint again, or treating him like shit, because Clint wasn’t putting up with that. “I’m just saying, seems like I’m always putting a foot wrong with him. Do you think if I asked him to just list what I should be avoiding, he’d be okay with that or start blanking me again?”

Steve frowned as he thought that over. “I’d love to say he’d be open with you, but…” He shrugged. “He doesn’t like talking about it.”

Clint sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I got that.”

They all ate lunch pretty quickly, then headed to Mr. Coulson’s room for the first meeting of the anti-bullying club. Pepper was already waiting for them with a stack of paperwork and the steely look Clint associated with highly-organised people having to deal with the less organised.

“Right,” she said. “There’s a lot to get through, so if we could please try to keep the banter to a minimum.” She shot Tony a glare and he gave her a shocked, innocent look that didn’t look at all at home on his face.

She ignored it. “We need a club manifesto, a set of guidelines on how to proceed, any ideas on _non-violent_ ways to discourage bullying—” She sent Steve a glare at that one. Steve’s innocent look was a lot more believable than Tony’s. “— a list of members and, and I’m aware this one will probably cause the most arguments, a club name.”

“Stark’s Society of Sassy Saviours,” said Tony, instantly.

“Not everything has to have your name on it, Tony,” said Steve.

Tony let out a dramatic gasp. “Lies!”

“The first thing we need to do is gather intelligence,” said Natasha, leaning forward. “We need to build up an accurate picture of how bad the problem is, and where the activity hubs are. Is it seniors picking on freshman? People picking on the socially inferior? Are they motivated by racial, social, religious, gender or sexuality prejudices? Are there a group of usual offenders or is it a pervasive problem?”

Pepper nodded and made a note on her paperwork. “That’s a good point, we need to know what we’re dealing with before we try and combat it.”

This was way more business-like than Clint had been expecting. He was beginning to feel like he’d wandered into the wrong room. He’d only wanted to be part of protecting kids like Wanda from assholes like Brock, he didn’t think there would be agendas or any of that shit involved.

He liked the idea of intelligence gathering, though. That sounded like he’d get to dress like an FBI agent, or get people alone in darkened rooms and shine lights in their faces until they confessed their motivation for stealing some kid’s lunch money.

“Have the guys who broke your aids caused you or Wanda any more trouble?” Steve asked Clint. “Do you know who they are?”

Aw man, of course it would be him on the receiving end of an interrogation, not the other way round.

“I didn’t, but Bucky did,” he said. “Some guy called Brock and his friends. They don’t like carnies, apparently, but they haven’t done anything else.” Not yet, anyway. Clint had a feeling that he hadn’t heard the last of them.

“Brock Rumlow,” said Pepper. “Of course it’s him. And I’m betting Jasper Sitwell and the rest of those assholes. Half the girls on my squad have had a shitty experience with one of them.”

“Half the girls in the school,” corrected Natasha.

“They treat girls badly?” asked Steve, straightening up. “Why the hell didn’t I know that?”

“Are you a girl?” asked Natasha, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon, Steve. This is a high school. Loads of guys treat girls badly.”

“I figured that was part of the point of this whole thing,” added Pepper. “Not all bullying is people losing their lunch money.”

The door slammed open, ricocheting off the wall behind it with a bang as Bucky strode through.

“I want in,” he growled, glaring around at everyone in the room as if any of them had the slightest intention of excluding him.

“Please consider the wellbeing of the building before making your dramatic gestures, Barnes,” said Coulson.

“Sorry,” said Bucky, sounding anything but.

Clint pushed out the empty chair next to him. “Come and join us. I think Pepper’s about to provide us all with laminated agendas.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, then sloped forward and slumped into the chair.

“It’s good to see you,” said Steve, softly. 

Bucky gave him a bit of a glare, then clenched his jaw. “Can’t let you go getting into trouble without me.”

Coulson looked up and pointedly cleared his throat.

“No one is getting into any trouble,” said Pepper, quickly. “This is going to be a club dedicated to protecting others and minimising aggressive actions.” She sent a steely look around at the rest of them.

“But we get to have a cool name, right?” said Tony. “I’m thinking—”

“We’re not calling ourselves anything that you come up with,” said Steve.

Pepper sighed. “I knew the name would be the biggest problem,” she muttered. “Look, can we put that to one side? We need people to volunteer for the various things that need doing before our next meeting. Who wants to work on a club manifesto? I figure two or three people will be enough.”

Clint tuned her out and shuffled his chair closer to Bucky’s so that he could murmur to him, “Steve’s not the only one glad you’re here.”

Bucky gave a half-shrug, then made a face. “I seem to spend all my time hiding. I’m getting sick of it. Thought this might be a good way to try and break the habit.”

Clint was so proud of him that he wanted to burst, but he had a feeling anything he said to that effect would be taken the wrong way, so instead he reached over to take Bucky’s hand.

****

**Tony**

 

Starting up an anti-bullying club as a way to get into someone’s pants had seemed like the most ridiculous thing Tony had done in the name of getting laid, but he was rapidly reevaluating that. For one thing, this club was turning out to be a great idea in its own right, and for another, Tony was pretty sure that he was never actually going to get Steve to sleep with him.

Which would, actually, be totally fine, if he could just get him to go out with him, maybe kiss him, possibly even—and he could hardly believe he was saying this—just hold his hand a bit. Clint and Bucky were holding hands right now, and Tony was having to fight an unexpected surge of jealousy. How the hell were the new kid and the poster boy for emotional issues managing to be all lovey-dovey when Tony could barely get Steve to talk to him?

When the meeting broke up, Tony tried to catch his attention, maybe even suggest meeting up after school to talk over what they should do before the next meeting, but Steve was already up and heading for Bucky.

Right, of course. Got to fuss over the best friend finally growing a backbone.

Tony moved in that direction himself, wondering how many times you could shove yourself into conversations that didn’t involve you before people started avoiding you on sight.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” he heard Clint saying softly to Bucky. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t be involved with that asshole.”

“Are you kidding?” said Bucky. “I should be apologising to you for just storming off like some kinda diva.”

Clint shrugged. “Maybe I like divas.”

“Oh man, please don’t tell Bucky that,” said Steve. “I get enough histrionics from him.”

Bucky glared at him, but didn’t get a chance to reply.

“Mr Barnes, I wonder if we might discuss your lack of presence in History earlier,” said Mr Coulson.

Bucky looked caught but nodded, glanced at Clint and squeezed his hand, then stepped over to Coulson for his comeuppance.

Steve watched him go with a faint frown, so Tony cut in as smoothly as he could.

“So, seriously, we’re going to come up with the best name ever, right?”

“Nothing with your name in it,” said Steve.

“Of course not,” said Tony, as if it had never crossed his mind to suggest they get Stark Industries to sponsor them so that they could get a bunch of cool shit, like shirts and pepper spray and mini-bikes to get them across campus to the scene of an emergency and security bots that were programmed to alert them to situations that looked like bullying and— Nope, none of that. Bucky had told him not to suggest buying Steve stuff, and he had a feeling this counted.

Man, those bots would’ve been so cool, though. Maybe he’d make one anyway, just as a prototype.

“Screw You, Bullies? The Protectors? Howling Heroes?” he suggested.

“Nothing that makes us sound like a biker gang,” said Pepper firmly, gathering up the last of her paperwork.

“What’s biker gang about that?” asked Tony, turning towards her. “ _Heroes_ , Pepper. We’re saving the pathetic nerdy kids of the world from oppression! We’re not just heroes, we’re _superheroes_.”

“Two things,Tony. We haven’t saved anyone from anything yet, and I’m pretty sure calling them ‘pathetic and nerdy’ counts as oppression,” said Pepper.

“Also,” added Rhodey, “not sure the guy who built his first robot before he was in double digits gets to judge other people for nerdiness.”

Tony gave him a look that he hoped summed up his shock and hurt at such an accusation. “That wasn’t _nerdy_ , that was _genius_ ,” he said. “Completely different thing, right, Steve?”

He turned back to Steve just in time to see his eyes flick up from where they had been resting, somewhere just below Tony’s waist.

And, see, that was the thing. If Steve never showed any signs of being interested, Tony would have just dropped this whole thing and settled for being Steve’s friend. Steve’s madly pining friend, but he was pretty sure he could pull that off without becoming a Brontë character. But here they were, Tony wearing his tightest, most look-how-fabulous-my-ass-is jeans, and Steve was checking him out. He’d been checking him out on Friday as well, when he’d stripped down to a t-shirt for the archery, and sometimes, when Tony managed to make a joke that Steve didn’t get offended by, he grinned at him with this look in his eyes that made Tony want to just screw the whole move-slowly thing and kiss the shit out of him.

“That was nerdy,” said Steve. “Don’t be ashamed of who you are, you’re a nerd. Be proud of it.”

He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezed it. Was Tony actually finally getting somewhere with him? He tried to keep the grin that rose up in him at that thought off his face, but he had a feeling it was probably shining out of his eyes.

“Nerds and Proud,” said Pepper, consideringly. “Maybe that’s what we should call ourselves.”

“No way,” said Tony, jabbing a finger at her. “This isn’t Math Club, come on.”

Steve’s hand fell away and he took a step back. Tony looked at him, wondering if he should be pressing his advantage, but Steve was looking at Pepper. He glanced back at Tony and there was something hollow about the smile he gave him. “Seems like you two have plenty of ideas, just remember that we get to veto any terrible ones.”

He picked up his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Damnit, why did he keep doing that? Just when Tony thought they were getting close to something that might be called flirting, he just stepped away and disappeared. How was Tony meant to show that he was serious about wanting to pursue a thing with him if he couldn’t ever pin the guy down for longer than five minutes?

Maybe that was the point. Maybe Steve had worked out what was going on and was trying to avoid Tony as the best way of skipping an awkward moment. He was a nice guy, he wouldn’t want to have to crush Tony’s hopes if he could just let him down gently by avoiding the issue.

Well, fuck that. Tony wasn’t going to be pushed away. He was going to ask the guy out and get his heart stomped on, because that way he’d actually _know_.

Besides, Steve might say yes. Tony just had to get the groundwork right.

****

He didn’t see Steve again until the end of the day in the parking lot. He and Sam were hovering by the circus van with Bucky, who was clearly waiting for Clint.

Right, time to try this again. Tony headed over to them with a wave and a grin.

“Anyone want a ride home?” He grinned around at everyone, but kept his eyes on Steve. “Or, hell, the day is still young, we could go hang out at the mall or something. I’d be up for finding a coffee shop.”

Steve was already shaking his head. “I’ve got to get home.” He glanced at Bucky. “I’m walking back with Bucky, then getting the bus.”

Of course he was. Tony gave Bucky a look that was probably a bit defeated.

“I can get Becca to walk with me, if you want to go sooner,” said Bucky, glancing over to where his sister was approaching with Wanda. 

Tony threw his keys up and caught them in his hand. “C’mon, Steve, take a ride with me.”

“It’s in completely wrong direction for you,” said Steve. “There’s no need for you to put yourself out.” He glanced at Sam. “C’mon, we can still get the bus if we hurry.” 

They headed off towards the stop before Tony could come up with some way to persuade him. Sam glanced back over his shoulder and gave Tony a half-hearted shrug of apology that meant Tony was being way too obvious. Well, for everyone except Steve, apparently.

He looked back at Bucky. “Okay, seriously, is he trying to avoid me? Because I can take a hint, you know, it takes a while, but I can do it, and if he wants me to leave him alone—”

“Nah, he’s just an idiot,” said Bucky. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be trying to set you up if I didn’t think it was exactly what he wanted.”

Clint came bursting out of the school and Bucky’s attention immediately turned to him. Something that almost looked like a smile crossed his face. Clint caught sight of him, beamed, then threw his bag up into the air, launched himself into a handspring, landed and caught his bag on its way down.

Show off.

“You better not let Pepper see you doing that,” Tony said to him when he was close enough. “She’ll have you on the squad in about thirty seconds flat.”

Clint snorted. “She’d have to change the uniform. I only dazzle and amaze when I’m dressed in purple.”

“At this point, I don’t actually believe you have any other colours in your wardrobe,” said Bucky, draping an arm around Clint’s shoulders. They gazed at each other for long enough for Tony to wonder if he was a third wheel, then Bucky pressed a quick kiss to Clint’s lips and, yep, he was definitely a third wheel.

Eh, he’d cope. “Okay, so, I’m clearly getting nowhere with Steve at the moment,” he said, trying to get back to the important topic. “Ideas? I guess I need to just come out and ask him if he’s interested, but I can’t even get him alone at this point. Hell, I can’t even get him to hang out after school unless he thinks he’s doing you a favour.”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s got stuff going on at home.”

“He still goes to yours to play computer games,” said Clint. “Maybe you could try asking Tony over as well next time you do that?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I don’t— my room isn’t big enough for any more than two.”

“We could go to mine,” said Tony, then made a face. “Except Steve will make an excuse not to go.”

“He’ll go if I ask him,” said Bucky with confidence. “But that ain’t gonna help you much anyway, because if it’s the three of us, you still won’t get a chance to talk to him alone.”

“I don’t mind coming along,” said Clint. He flashed Bucky a bright grin. “I bet we can find an excuse to disappear off together for a bit.”

A plan was forming in Tony’s head. He held up a hand. “No, wait, hang on, I’ve got it. My folks are off at some gala this Saturday, they’ll be in New York all weekend. Free house means a party, right? We’ll celebrate the start of this club, I’ll invite everyone, you can make sure Steve rocks up then fuck off with Clint to make out in the garden or something and I’ll…make a move.”

Fuck knew what move, but that was Saturday’s problem.

“A party?” repeated Bucky. “I don’t know.”

“A small party,” said Tony. “Only people we know. More of a gathering, really.”

Bucky made a face. “I kinda hate most people we know.”

“I’ll be there,” Clint reminded him. “And you don’t actually hate anyone, you just hate talking to them.”

“Same thing,” muttered Bucky. “Everyone’s an asshole, and you most of all.”

Clint sniggered and leaned in to kiss him. “Sure thing, grumpy,” he said. “Look, I’ve got to get these kids home before their parents think I’ve kidnapped them. A party sounds great, as long as it is small. Get a couple of drinks into Steve and show him a good time, and who knows? Maybe he’ll finally figure out that you’re into him.”

Right. And maybe pigs would fly. Tony was thinking he was going to have to write it across the sky before Steve caught on.

Or, you know, just use his words, but he’d kinda been hoping to avoid that. Talking about feelings was not the Stark way, after all. He was barely able to admit to himself that he had them.

****

Tony’s mom was in the lounge again when he got back, which meant Dad was still out. She was staring into her glass of wine rather than at the magazine on her lap, but she looked up and found a ghost of a smile when he came in. That meant this was one of her good days.

He dropped his bag by the door and threw himself into a chair. “How was your day?”

She looked as if that took some thought. “Fine,” she lied. “Yours?”

“Great,” he lied back to her. The look she gave him showed she recognised the Stark code, so he returned it with a grin.

“Your father is coming home soon,” she said, which was a sentence loaded with meaning.

Tony nodded. “Hey, you’re still both going to New York on Friday, right?”

Her eyes went back to her wine. “Yes. I intend to be back by Sunday night though.” She took a sip of wine.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have a party on Saturday,” said Tony. “Well, a gathering, it’s not going to be big enough for a party, really.”

She nodded. “You have friends here,” she said, vaguely. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tony. And not just Rhodey and Pepper; he was pretty sure he could count most of the people involved in the club as friends and not have them object. And they wouldn’t expect anything back for it, like most of the other people he’d had call themselves his friends over the years. Hell, the first bit of advice Bucky had given him on Steve was that he shouldn’t use money to buy his friendship.

Of course, there was a pretty big gap between friendship and what Tony wanted with Steve. How the hell was he meant to bridge that?

“Hey, Mom, how do you get a guy to like you?”

The question clearly hit her out of the blue, which was probably fair. It had been a long time since Tony had asked her for advice. She only paused for a moment before coming up with an answer, though.

“I always found a push-up bra to be rather effective.”

It was maybe the last thing he’d expected her to say. He couldn’t keep in a laugh, and he saw a tiny but real smile cross her face.

“Have you seen how tight these jeans are?” he asked. “I’ve kinda tried that one.”

She shrugged. “Then I’m afraid I haven’t got any advice.” An engine pulled up outside and she glanced towards the window. “Your father is home.”

Right, that was Tony’s cue to get out of the way until he could gauge what kind of mood Dad was in. He got up. “I’ll be in my room.”

She nodded, but she was still looking out of the window, and all the emotion had faded off her face.

****

The idea of a party went down well with pretty much everyone. Steve, of course, was the exception. His face took on a tiny frown and he crossed his arms, and Tony was already wondering just how much dignity he’d have to sacrifice to beg him to come.

Instead, Bucky materialised by Steve’s elbow and muttered something in his ear that made Steve turn to him, his frown turning into something more complicated. A whispered conversation followed, then Steve’s shoulders slumped and he nodded, and Tony knew he was in. Awesome.

Bucky sent him a significant look that clearly said, We’re even now, and Tony nodded his agreement. This was going to be his last gamble anyway. After this, he’d just resign himself to dying alone, because he clearly wasn’t any good at dating.

When he got home, his mom was in her room with the door shut and there was no sign that she’d made it out of bed all day. She stayed like that until Friday, when he got home to find her and Dad getting ready to leave.

Every fold of her clothes was perfectly in place, every hair lay exactly where it should, and her make-up was like a mask. Tony gave her an encouraging smile, but he didn’t think it got through the armour.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Dad as they left, which gave Tony a lot of leeway. “I’ve arranged for cleaners to come in on Sunday afternoon.”

“It’s not going to be that big a party,” said Tony. “Just a few friends.”

Dad wasn’t listening. “And stay out of my workshop, I’ve got some sensitive things in there at the moment.”

“Sure thing,” lied Tony. ‘Sensitive’ usually meant ‘interesting’, and he’d worked out how to sneak in and take a look without being caught back when he was kid.

They left without Mom saying anything, or even really looking at Tony, but he knew not to take it personally. She was mentally preparing for the act she’d have to put on when they got to New York, and wouldn’t have the energy for interaction with him right now.

A text from Clint came through as Tony was watching their car drive away and wondering what he should do with the empty house tonight.

_Hey, just thought, do you need me to bring booze tomorrow? The circus is full of guys who’ll buy booze for underage kids._

_Thanks, but if there’s one thing Starks have plenty of, it’s alcohol,_ sent back Tony. _Not that I think most of the guys coming are the type to get absolutely wasted._

Possibly a problem with hanging out with a bunch of guys who were earnest about helping people and making the world a better place.

_Guess I’ll have to do my best to make up for them then,_ sent back Clint. _And I’m totally going to try and get Bucky drunk, I bet he’s adorable when he’s tipsy._

Tony tried to put ‘Bucky’ and ‘adorable’ into the same picture and failed. He wondered if Clint had had a knock to the head when he was a kid.

_I think he’s more likely to be an angry drunk, but whatever floats your boat._

_He’ll be an adorable rage kitten._

Okay, the evidence really was stacking up that Clint had had some kind of head trauma.

****

**Steve**

 

Steve wasn’t really a party kind of a guy, and he definitely wasn’t a Tony Stark party kind of a guy. Right up until it was time to leave, he was trying to convince himself that he could duck out and just stay home with his sketchbook instead, but he knew he was kidding himself even before Bucky’s text arrived.

_Mom said she’ll give us a lift to Tony’s, if you can get to mine by 7:30._

Steve sighed, staring at the text and feeling the creeping sense of doom set in.

“That’s a very long face,” observed his mom.

Steve gave her a pleading look. “You’re too sick for me to go out tonight, right?”

“I feel better than I have all week,” she said, with an amused smile.

Steve sighed again, even deeper. _Okay, see you then,_ he sent back to Bucky. 

He did his best not to wish that Bucky was still terrified of everyone except Steve, because this thing where he was branching out and starting to trust again was great, and this thing with Clint was even better for him, but if Bucky didn’t need Steve as a buffer for large social gatherings, Steve wouldn’t have to spend the evening watching Tony chat Pepper up.

Or worse. What were the chances that Pepper wouldn’t end up making out with Tony by the end of the evening? With Tony turning the full force of his charm on her, how was she meant to resist?

Steve probably wouldn’t be able to.

He pushed that thought away as being worse than useless.

“I thought these people were your friends,” said his mom. “You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

Steve managed a smile. “Just not looking forward to Tony Stark’s idea of a party. I can’t help picturing strippers, for some reason.”

She pulled the blanket draped over the back of the sofa down onto her lap and spread it out. “If there are strippers, I hope you’ll take photos for me.”

Other people must have sane parents, thought Steve as he headed upstairs to get changed. Bucky’s always came across as kinda normal.

****

Of course, having thought that, he was greeted at Bucky’s by Mrs Barnes putting a finger to her lips and pushing him back out the front door, joining him on the step and half-closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on with Bucky?” she asked in a half-whisper.

Steve stared at her. “Um,” he said, because he couldn’t say, _he’s in love_ without betraying the best friend code. “How do you mean?” he hedged.

She flailed her hands. “Steve, he’s _going to a party_! The other day he had a friend over who wasn’t you; I didn’t even know he talked to people who weren’t you! He came home late last Friday and said he’d been shooting a crossbow. A crossbow!!”

“Clint’s from the circus,” said Steve, which he knew was no kind of explanation.

He’d been pretty close to Bucky’s family for years, as a consequence of being best friends with him for longer than he could remember, but it wasn’t until after Bucky’s accident that they started treating him as one of their own. Long hours in a hospital together, and then all those months of watching Bucky emotionally wall himself off had forged a sense of camaraderie as they all struggled to work out how to help him.

She stared at him. “The circus,” she repeated. “How the hell has Bucky ended up with a friend from the circus?”

The front door opened to reveal Bucky scowling at them both. “I go to school with him,” he snapped. “And he’s not my friend, he’s my boyfriend.”

Steve kinda wished he had his phone out so that he could get a photo of her face.

“Boyfriend?” she repeated, weakly.

Bucky’s glare doubled in intensity. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all,” she said, very quickly. “That’s— that’s fantastic, Bucky, I’m so pleased for you.”

Bucky stared at her, then nodded. He glanced at Steve then pushed past them both. “Are we going?”

“Sure,” said Mrs Barnes, in a dazed voice. “Let me just get my keys.”

Steve followed Bucky to wait by her car. “You know you’re freaking her out, right?”

“Yep,” said Bucky. He sent Steve a brief smile. “I’m freaking you out as well.”

Steve didn’t see the point in denying that. “I’m not used to seeing you happy,” he said. “I kinda like it.”

That was enough to make Bucky scowl and hunch over to glare at the ground as Mrs Barnes came back out.

Tony lived over in the classy part of town, which was about as far away from Steve’s apartment as it was possible to get without going into the next county. Steve hadn’t been there before, but he’d heard enough about it to not be surprised when they pulled up at a vast house with a columned porch and a garage that looked like it could hold every car owned by someone in Steve’s apartment building and still have space left over.

He got out of the car and just stared at it, then took a deep breath and set his shoulders. It was just a couple of hours, he could do this.

“You look like you’re going to your death,” said Bucky as his mom drove off. “You know it’s just gonna be all the guys that you choose to hang out with at school?”

“I know that’s what Tony said,” agreed Steve. “It’s Tony, though. I’m willing to bet he’s since invited half the rest of the school.”

“I’ll take that bet,” said Bucky. “I reckon he’s more interested in socialising on a smaller level these days. Maybe even one-on-one.”

If even Bucky had realised Tony had a thing for Pepper, that must mean everyone knew. Including Pepper. Steve was definitely going to have to watch them make out tonight.

That was fine though. He didn’t want to get together with Tony, and Tony was free to pursue whomever he felt like.

“C’mon, let’s do this,” said Steve.

Tony answered the door with a grin and a drink in his hand. “Hey, hey! Now the party can begin!”

He was wearing a blue shirt that made his eyes glow and he’d done something to his hair that made Steve’s fingers itch to touch it. Damn the guy, did he have to be so unbelievably attractive?

They went through to a lounge that would probably fit Steve’s entire apartment, but Steve was too relieved to only see their friends in there to really pay attention.

“Told you,” said Bucky, slapping a hand on his shoulder, then slipping around him to head over to where Clint was perched on the back of a sofa with a beer in his hand. Right, apparently Steve’s role as moral support was only needed up until Clint came into the picture.

“You want a beer?” asked Tony. “Something stronger?”

Steve shook his head. “We’re underage,” he reminded Tony, who snorted.

“Right, and all over the country, underage kids are having a beer right now,” he said. “C’mon, Rogers, live a little.”

Well, there weren’t any strippers, so maybe Steve should unbend a little. “Okay, fine,” he said. It would make his mom happy to hear he was finally finding some teenage rebellion to engage in, at the very least.

Tony flashed him a grin as if he’d agreed to become president of the Tony Stark Fan Society, and disappeared off through a door that looked as if it led to a kitchen. Steve glanced around at the room again, spotting Pepper engaged in what looked like a very serious conversation with Natasha and Sam. If Steve were a good person, he’d find some way to distract Nat and Sam so that Tony could get a chance to talk to Pepper.

He wasn’t feeling like a good person right now.

“Here,” said Tony, putting a bottle in his hand, and Steve took a long swig. “Awesome,” beamed Tony, chinking his bottle against Steve’s. “Now, be honest, are you surprised that this isn’t some kind of crazy bacchanal?”

“It’s not some kind of crazy bacchanal _yet_ ,” said Steve. “Who knows what will happen in an hour or two?”

Tony snorted. “I think you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Not me,” said Steve, “but my mom was hoping for photos of strippers.” He managed to time it so that Tony was just in the process of taking a drink that he then choked on.

“Jesus,” he said, drawing a hand over his mouth. “Your mom sounds hilarious.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, she can be.”

“Next time, I’ll get strippers, just for her,” said Tony. “Or, hey, wait, I bet we could get some of these guys to strip after a couple of beers.” He glanced over at where Clint was still balanced on the back of the sofa but now had one arm draped around Bucky. “Hey! Hawkeye! Can you pole dance?”

Clint considered that. “I mean, I’ve never tried, but I’m pretty flexible and I do other stuff that’s similar so…probably?”

Bucky gave him a very interested look. “Tony, you got any poles anywhere?”

“Why does everyone think my house is basically a strip joint?” asked Tony, shaking his head. “You realise my mom was in charge of decorating it, right? Back when we first moved here.”

“Hey,” said Clint, “we don’t know your mom, maybe she has a thing for guys in short shorts gyrating for her pleasure.”

“Nah,” said Bucky, “that’s more likely to be Steve’s mom.”

Everyone’s heads turned to Steve. Damn the guy, why couldn’t he have stayed a reclusive introvert?

****

An hour or two passed. Steve had another beer, and most other people had more than that. Tony put on some music and pulled out some chips, but that was the extent of his party preparations. He stuck close to Steve, teasing him about his opinions on the music that was being played, asking him how his circus art project was going, even trying to talk him into dancing at one point, although Steve wasn’t having any of that.

“No one else is dancing,” he pointed out.

Tony glanced around at the rest of the room and made a face. “Hey, Clint, I thought you were gonna do some dancing for us?”

Clint glanced over from the corner that he and Bucky had claimed as their own. Bucky had his back set to the wall and Clint was sitting so that his body acted as a barrier between Bucky and the room. Steve wondered if he’d done it on purpose.

“Hey, I’m a professional performer,” said Clint. “You’ve got to pay me to shake my funky groove stuff.” He glanced back at Bucky. “Unless you want to dance with me, of course.”

The look Bucky gave him made it very clear how unlikely that was.

Clint looked back at Tony with a shrug. “Sorry, man.”

Tony sighed and turned back to Steve. “Fine, okay, no dancing.”

“Other people might dance,” said Steve and then, reluctantly, “Pepper’s used to dancing in front of people, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Pepper would end up trying to build a human pyramid, and she’d probably manage it too, right up until one of these idiots fell over and smashed their head in. Nah, if you’re not up for dancing, we’ll have to find something else to do.” He frowned with thought, then his eyes lit up. “You know, if there’s no dancing at a party, there’s usually drinking games.”

“No,” said Steve again. “C’mon, Tony, I’ve got to go home to my mom at least a little bit sober, or she’s gonna tease the shit outta me.”

“You could stay over,” suggested Tony. “Tell her it got late and—”

“No,” said Steve. His mom might have been feeling better earlier, but there was no way she was well enough for him to leave her alone overnight.

“You know, you say that a lot,” said Tony. He was still smiling, but there was a look of defeat in his eyes.

Steve managed a shrug, looking down at his beer bottle. “I guess I’m not up for the same kinds of things as you.”

He realised he wished that he was. He wished he was able to do something that would bring the pleased look that Tony had been wearing most of the evening back into his eyes, but none of the things that Tony was likely to want to do at a party were things that Steve wanted to do.

Which is what he’d been telling himself all along, all through this stupid crush he couldn’t seem to shake. Tony might be handsome and charming and funny, but he and Steve didn’t have nearly enough in common for a relationship, even if Tony was interested in one. Tony was all flash and money and that quicksilver grin, and Steve was just…Steve.

“Okay, how about this then,” said Tony. “Let me show you my favourite place in this house. I think you’ll like it.” He made a self-deprecating face. “I mean, I’ve been wrong about these things before, but I don’t see how you won’t like it.” He dropped his drink onto a side table and caught at Steve’s arm. “C’mon, it’ll get you away from the music for a bit, at the very least.”

Steve drained the last of his bottle and set it down as well. “Okay, sure.”

Tony kept his hand on Steve as they left the room, shifting it up to his shoulder to guide him towards the stairs. Steve reminded himself that Tony was a handsy kind of a guy and that it didn’t mean anything, and that he definitely shouldn’t be moving into it, but he’d had just enough alcohol for it to take a while before he could bring himself to pull away.

“Okay, so, I should probably have said second favourite place because the workshop is fucking awesome, seriously, but it’s also pretty out-of-bounds right now; Dad’s a bit protective, and I’m not sure you’d be as excited by it as I am because you’re really not the tech-guy.”

“You noticed,” said Steve.

Tony threw a grin over his shoulder. “The phone was kind of a giveaway. And your reluctance to upgrade it even more so. It’s cool, totally fine, there’s a place for luddites in the world, just means I have to work out what to build you to blow your mind and make you admit to the pure joy and glory of modern technology, but I haven’t quite got to that yet.”

They headed along a hallway and then up another flight of stairs, and Steve tried not to let his reaction to just how big this place was show on his face. Who needed this many rooms? What the hell did they use them all for?

The last flight of stairs was more of a ladder, steep and wooden and painted white. Tony went up first, clattering up with familiarity, and Steve followed him, grateful that his asthma had gotten so much better as he’d grown. There had been a time when he’d been a lot smaller when he wouldn’t have been able to go up three flights of stairs in quick succession without having to sit down for a bit with his inhaler.

The ladder led up into a dark space and it took Steve a moment to adjust his eyes and realise they were surrounded on all sides by windows. They were in some kind of turret at the top of the house, looking out over the shining lights of the town.

“Oh,” he said, stepping forward to look out the window.

“Yeah,” said Tony, in a soft voice. “I thought you’d like it.”

Steve looked around, picking out the shapes of the school, the mall, even the field where the circus had set up their floodlights. Somewhere over on the far side was his home. One of those faint white dots might be his mom sitting up with the TV. “It’s incredible,” he said, tearing his eyes away to look at Tony. “Thanks for bringing me up here.”

“No problem,” said Tony. There was enough ambient light for Steve to make out the smugly pleased expression on his face. “Guess I finally found something you’ll say yes to.”

Steve frowned. “If you were just looking to find something I’d be impressed by—”

“No,” interrupted Tony, “No, c’mon, Steve, I know I come across as that kind of self-entitled rich asshole when you first meet me, but I thought you knew me better than that now. I just didn’t want to have dragged you all the way out here for a party you hated.”

Was that why he’d been hanging out with Steve all night? Because everyone else was having a good time and Tony was too much of a good host to just leave Steve on his own?

That was bullshit. Most of the guys here had been Steve’s friends long before they were Tony’s, so even if Steve hadn’t wanted to drink or dance, he’d still have had a good time just chatting to them.

“I don’t hate it,” he said instead, then turned back to the view because it was a great view, regardless of whatever Tony’s motives were in showing it to him.

Tony huffed out an amused breath. “Excellent. A ringing endorsement.” He stepped closer until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve. “Look, Steve, I get that we somehow managed to get off on the wrong foot, but I was hoping we’d got over that.”

“We have,” said Steve. He looked at Tony, only just realising how close they were. Tony’s eyes were glittering in the lights from the neighbour’s house and he had to take a moment to draw in a breath. Christ, the planes of Tony’s face were made for these kinds of shadows. Steve tried to remember if he had any charcoal left at home. “Working on this club together has been great.”

“Yeah, it really has,” said Tony. A hesitant look crossed his face, then he reached out and touched Steve’s elbow, fingers grazing over the cotton so faintly Steve could barely feel them on his skin. “Look, okay, this is— I’m probably going about this wrong, but I’m kinda running out of ideas and—” He cut himself off, shook his head, muttered “Fuck it,” under his breath, then leaned in and kissed Steve.

Steve froze up for a moment then couldn’t stop himself kissing back, moving closer to put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. His lips were soft and knew exactly what they were doing, taking Steve apart so that he could barely form a thought beyond awestruck surprise. What the hell was Tony doing kissing _him_?

“Steve,” said Tony, softly, pressing him back against the window and kissing him again. “Fuck, Steve.”

Steve managed to catch his scattered thoughts together and pulled away, resting his head back against the glass, which seemed cool against his hot skin. “Jesus, Tony,” he said, staring at him. “What was that?”

Tony shrugged. “What do you think? It was a kiss. Steve—”

Just a kiss. Right. Steve put his hand in the middle of Tony’s chest and pushed him back so that he could get a little space and actually think. “Wait, Tony, I don’t—” He shook his head. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be the guy Tony got off with at a party because there was no dancing or drinking games and this was apparently his third choice. “No,” he said, trying to persuade the part of his mind that was too busy revelling in what it had felt like to kiss Tony, the part that was desperately trying to point out that they had a good couple of hours before he had to head home, and he could probably spend most of them making out with Tony if he played his cards right, maybe even more.

What would happen tomorrow though? Or Monday at school? Tony wasn’t going to want anything more than that, and Steve couldn’t handle that.

“Okay, fine,” said Tony, stepping away and holding his hands up, “Understood, say no more, just, it seemed like you were kinda into it for a bit there, so—”

Steve felt himself flush and hoped Tony couldn’t see it in the dim lighting. “Just because I kissed you back doesn’t mean I want to be the next notch on a Stark bedpost,” he snapped.

Tony’s mouth hung open for a moment, then he snapped it shut, ducked a sharp nod. “Right, no, of course not, why would anyone,” he mumbled, then turned and disappeared down the ladder so quickly that Steve wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t jumped.

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Steve**

 

Fuck, what the hell had just happened? Steve drew a shaking hand over his face, emotions in a whirl. Had Tony really just kissed him? God, he’d been wanting that for so long.

He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. All the reasons that it was a terrible idea were still valid. Tony was engaged in this club now, but who knew how long that would last? Steve couldn’t really picture Tony actually intervening if a gang was beating up on someone, not unless he knew he had an advantage.

Coming in afterwards with lawyers and money and fancy gadgets aimed at making it all better, sure, but he wasn’t the guy to dive in and take a punch that was meant for someone else.

Even in a universe where Tony had meant it as more than a kiss, there was no way that Steve could be with someone like that. No matter how much he wanted to throw caution to the wind and just go with it.

He ran his hand through his hair, took one last look at the view, and headed back downstairs. It didn’t matter what Bucky said, he was done with this party. There must be a bus still running, right? Or, fuck it, the mood Steve was in, he’d just walk home.

As he headed back down to the second floor landing, there were pounding feet and Bucky emerged up the stairs. He took one look at Steve and threw his arms in the air. “What the fuck did you do, Stevie?”

“What?” asked Steve.

Bucky gave him an exasperated look. “Tony just strode in, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, then jumped in his car and lit out of here like his ass was on fire.”

Of course Tony would go straight for the booze. Steve gave a shrug. “And what’s that got to do with me?”

Bucky looked as if he were going to tear his hair out. “Because, you idiot, every fucking person down in that room knows that Tony’s spent weeks working up to asking you out, and that tonight was the night he was going to make his play. The two of you go off together and he comes back looking like someone murdered his puppy, then abandons his house to a bunch of high school students mid-party? How fucking stupid do you think we are?”

Steve blinked at him. “Ask me out?” he repeated, then shook his head. “No way, Tony’s not interested in anything long-term, you know the guy. He barely sticks with a girl for longer than a week.”

Except, Tony had told Steve that he was looking for something ‘more meaningful’, and he’d spent the whole evening talking to Steve rather than Pepper. Steve began to get a bad feeling in his stomach.

“You’re a complete fucking idiot,” said Bucky. “Of course he’s interested in something long-term, Jesus, you think anyone who knows you would think you’re the guy to go to for a fling?”

Steve shook his head. “He said it was just a kiss.”

Bucky stared at him. “He _kissed_ you and you— Oh for fuck’s sake, Steve, you’ve been crushing on this guy for over a year, why the fuck wouldn’t you go for it?”

Steve opened his mouth to give all the very good reasons why he’d said no, and realised that none of them would stop Bucky thinking he was an idiot. “He really likes me?” he said instead.

“He’s been crushing on you at least as long as you’ve been crushing on him,” said Bucky. “C’mon, Steve, I know you think you gotta be single because of your mom and all, but you’re allowed to be happy. She’d say the same.”

Steve clenched his jaw. They’d spent so long not talking about his mom that he’d let himself forget that Bucky not only knew all about it, but knew how it was fucking Steve’s head up. He’d always been a lot more perceptive than people gave him credit for.

Fuck, which meant he was probably right about Tony as well.

“He took a whole bottle of whiskey?”

Bucky nodded. “He was headed down into town.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. “Right, okay.” He moved towards the stairs and Bucky stood back to let him pass.

Steve got halfway down before he realised the flaw in his plan. “Are you okay to get home without me?”

Bucky hesitated, then his gaze flew over Steve’s head to where Clint was lounging in the hallway below, trying to look unobtrusive. “Sure. I’ll get Clint to take me.”

That was a big deal, and from the look on Clint’s face, he knew it, too. Steve didn’t have time to stay and talk to Bucky about it though, so he just nodded and carried on downstairs.

“Good luck,” Clint called after him as he went through the front door.

Steve was going to need it. How the hell was he meant to hunt down Tony when he was in a car and Steve was on foot? Where was Tony likely to go to get drunk?

****

**Tony**

 

What the hell had he been thinking? Of course Steve wouldn’t want to be with someone like him. Tony had known that from the start, why the hell had he let Bucky and Clint persuade him otherwise?

He pushed down harder on the gas as he headed into town, trying to get control over his emotions. Fuck. This was why he never let himself hope, because it always ended with crushing disappointment.

He stomped on the brakes as the lights ahead turned red and the bottle of whiskey rolled off the passenger seat into the footwell with a thump.

He’d need to stop somewhere to drink that. He spun the wheel to the right as the lights turned green, taking off with a squeal of tires.

Hancock Park was dark and deserted, just as Tony had been hoping. He found a bench under a tree where he could sit and brood, opened the bottle, and took a swig. He’d rushed out without a coat and there was a chill in the air, but once he’d had enough alcohol he wouldn’t feel it. He wouldn’t feel anything.

For a brief, beautiful moment there, Steve had kissed him back and Tony had let himself believe that that was something he could have. He’d had a flurry of images of what it would be like to go out with Steve, to be the smug couple who were always touching, like Clint and Bucky were starting to be. He’d pictured coffee dates and hanging out with him and having someone to bring home to fill some of the silence that had settled in when his mom started to shut down.

He took another swig of whiskey. He was a Stark, he didn’t get nice things like that. He got sitting alone with booze and the loneliness of his intelligence.

Alright, okay, so maybe he was wallowing a bit, but he felt like he was entitled. He could do being mature and faking being well-adjusted tomorrow, and maybe finally start building that AI he’d been planning so that he had something to talk to.

Across the road, a flash of bright hair made him glance over. One of the circus kids that Clint was always ferrying about was coming out of a convenience store, bag in hand. Pietro, that was his name. Tony shuffled back further under the tree so that he wouldn’t get noticed. Not that Pietro was likely to come over and start talking to him, but he’d rather the whole school didn’t know that he’d spent his Saturday night drinking alone in a park like a hobo.

Three guys came out of an alleyway and Pietro moved to go round them but was stopped by one of them grabbing his arm. They circled him and Tony realised it was Brock and two of his cronies. Ah, crap.

Pietro pulled his arm free and said something that didn’t go down at all well from the look on Brock’s face, and a moment later they’d hustled him down into the alley, out of sight of the road.

Oh, hell no. No way was Tony just sitting back while Brock’s thugs ran around beating the shit out of whomever they liked. He hopped up and strode across the road to the end of the alleyway. Dark figures had surrounded Pietro behind a dumpster about halfway down.

“Fucking carnie scum,” he heard Brock saying, and then the sound of a fist hitting flesh and a cry.

Tony ran through the weapons available to him, then pulled back the hand still holding the whiskey bottle and flung it at the wall behind them. It smashed with a satisfyingly loud crash that made everyone’s eyes turn towards him.

“Picking on middle school kids, Brock? I shoulda figured that kind of cowardly behaviour from you,” he said, walking closer and hoping he was coming off as intimidating. Not for the first time, he wished he were taller. Thor wouldn’t have any problems looking scary as shit while walking down a dark alleyway.

He’d hoped that distracting them would give Pietro a chance to escape, but Brock still had a firm hold on Pietro’s arm as they all turned to Tony.

“Stark,” said Brock. “Stop meddling in shit that ain’t your business.”

“It is my business,” said Tony. “I don’t know if you saw the excellent posters that Pepper put up all over, but we’ve formed a club to combat just this kind of asshole behaviour.”

“We’re not in school right now,” said Jasper. “And I don’t see a club here. There’s just you.”

Tony was rapidly reaching the end of his tether. This was just the perfect cap on a truly shitty evening. “Yeah, exactly,” he said. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to tangle with me.”

Brock laughed. “Typical Stark,” he said. “All talk, nothing to back it up.” He raised his fist. “What are you going to do to stop me?” He threw the fist at Pietro’s face and no, just no. Tony was fucking done with this rubbish.

He threw himself in front of Brock’s blow, taking the force of it on his shoulder, then threw his own punch, catching him right on the cheek. Brock stepped backwards and Tony followed up his advantage, hammering him in the stomach and driving the breath out of him.

“This would be a good time for you to run,” he said to Pietro, who didn’t need telling twice. He sprinted off so fast that Tony almost expected to hear a sonic boom.

“Fucking asshole,” growled Brock, and all three of them threw themselves at him.

Tony’s boxing skills were pretty good against one guy, but three was more than he could really manage. He did his best to hold his own, but after he took a heavy blow right to the centre of his chest, he fell back and felt the wall behind him, and knew he was in trouble.

“We’re going to fuck you up,” said Brock.

“No, you’re really not,” said an incredibly welcome voice, and Jasper went down to a well-aimed uppercut. Tony didn’t waste any time staring at Steve and trying to work out where he came from, instead he hit Brock again while Steve took care of Jack.

No one could stand long in the face of an angry Steve Rogers. Brock and his goons soon broke and ran back off down the alleyway.

Tony leaned back against the wall, trying to catch his breath, and put a delicate hand on his chest. Jesus, that hurt. He could see Pietro hovering in the entrance to the alleyway, which at least partially explained where Steve came from, but not why he was in the area. His way home from Tony’s shouldn’t have come anywhere near here, which was exactly why Tony had headed this way.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Steve.

Steve just stared at him. “What the fuck were you thinking, taking on all those guys on your own?”

Tony’s anger re-ignited. “Fuck off, Steve,” he said. “We’ve got a club, remember? Protect the helpless, or whatever?” He straightened up, moving away from the wall. “Well, helpless protected, good job all, I’m going home.”

He moved to go past Steve, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Fucking hell, Tony,” said Steve as if he couldn’t help himself, then he leaned in and kissed him.

Tony stumbled back and stared at him. “What the hell?” he asked. “You said no!”

Steve gave him a helpless shrug. “I was being an idiot.”

Tony gaped at him and Steve took another step forward, reaching out for Tony’s arm. “Please, Tony. Don’t tell me I’ve missed my chance.”

As if there were ever going to be a time when Tony would turn Steve down. He gave up on trying to follow along with what was happening in favour of kissing Steve again, hoping like hell this wasn’t going to end with more rejection. Steve kissed back, taking hold of Tony’s face and pushing him back against the wall as if he couldn’t contain his emotions.

Christ, maybe this wasn’t going to end badly. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve, feeling the shift of his shoulder muscles under his hands.

“How far should I let this go before I call the cops about public indecency?” asked Pietro, and Steve pulled away.

Tony sucked in a breath and just blinked for a moment, then fixed a glare on the kid. “You’d think we’d have earned some gratitude from you.”

Pietro just shrugged. “I can’t let you go about corrupting impressionable minds just because you helped me out. Besides, I’d have been fine.”

Tony snorted, because there was no way that was true, then looked at Steve. “I’m guessing we should walk this brat home, and not just drop him off a bridge or something.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” said Steve. “Then, uh, maybe we can go somewhere and talk?”

Pietro made a rude noise. “Like fuck you’re gonna be talking,” he muttered.

Steve cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Tony. “Come on, the circus isn’t far,” he said, heading out of the alleyway.

Tony followed him. “My car’s parked just up the street,” he said. “We can go for a spin after. Find somewhere quiet to park up.”

Pietro muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” Tony resolutely ignored him.

“Yeah, okay,” said Steve. He glanced at Tony then took a step closer to him and took his hand. Tony let him take it, trying to ignore the flood of warm pleasure that the action sent through him. Maybe this wasn’t going to end with rejection after all.

****

**Bucky**

 

Bucky stood in the doorway of Tony’s house watching Steve jog off down the road towards town for several minutes longer than he probably should have, but he couldn’t help feeling as if the ground was shifting under his feet. He’d trusted himself to a guy he’d barely known a month and let his security blanket run off after another guy.

Shit, how had he thought this would be okay?

Clint’s hand slipped into Bucky’s. “You know, I’m not sure I’d jog all the way through town after some guy in a sports car, no matter who they were.”

Bucky finally pulled himself away from the view down the street in order to look at Clint instead. “You’re saying I shouldn’t get a sports car then.”

“Maybe if it was a purple one,” said Clint, consideringly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Beginning to think maybe I should be dying my hair purple or something.”

Clint’s eyes darted to Bucky’s hair. “Nah,” he said, reaching out a hand to stroke a lock of it back behind his ear. “I kinda love your hair as it is.”

And just like that, Bucky’s stomach settled. He could trust Clint, of course he could. He wasn’t like that fucking asshole Pierce. And he’d trusted Tony, when he’d really needed to, surely Clint was a thousand times better than Tony?

He didn’t have words for the feeling that came with that thought, so he leaned in and kissed Clint instead of speaking. Clint gave him a happy smile in response that made Bucky think that he’d got at least some of what Bucky had been trying to say.

“Hey, how about we skip out of here and go back to mine?” asked Clint. “We’d have it to ourselves; I haven’t seen Barney in days.”

Bucky thought about holing up in Clint’s caravan for a bit, just the two of them behind a shut door. “That sounds good,” he said, then glanced over at the noise of the party in the lounge. “Should we be just leaving everyone in Tony’s house?”

Clint shrugged. “Tony did,” he pointed out. ”Besides, Pepper’s still here, she’s not going to let anything get out of hand.”

He made a good point.

“Okay,” said Bucky, glancing at his watch. He still had a couple of hours before he needed to be home.

Clint’s face lit up. “Awesome,” he said, and kissed Bucky again. Bucky made a mental note to keep doing things that made Clint want to kiss him, because he was rather enjoying it as a counterpoint to their conversation.

Clint had borrowed the circus minivan to drive over, which looked pretty incongruous parked on Tony’s street of posh houses and posher cars.

“Does this have some kinda really obnoxious tune as a horn?” asked Bucky as they pulled away. “Like a clown car?”

“Sadly it’s just a normal one,” said Clint. “When we’re new in a town and trying to drum up custom, we fix a speaker system to the roof and blast out circus music. I get the feeling it irritates the shit out of everyone.”

“Just like a circus should,” said Bucky.

“Hey, don’t go mocking my livelihood,” said Clint. “I mean, which of us actually has a livelihood?”

He made a good point. Bucky shrugged. “I guess some of us have to put the hard graft in, and some of us are just able to coast through life on our good looks.”

“Yeah,” agreed Clint. He reached over and patted Bucky’s thigh. “Sucks for you, having to do that hard graft while I stand in a circus ring and look pretty.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and caught a movement on the street ahead. There was some kind of crowd huddled up against a wall on the road that led down to the circus. “What’s going on there?”

“No idea,” said Clint. The crowd moved and Bucky recognised a pair of familiar figures at the centre of it. “Oh shit, it’s Tony and Steve,” said Clint, and he swerved across the road to pull up next to them with a squeal of tires.

The crowd around them included Brock, Jasper and Jack, as well as a bunch of other faces that Bucky recognised as part of their gang. Clint jumped out the van and started towards them with clenched fists. Bucky cursed to himself because the last thing he wanted to do was follow him, but he couldn’t just sit in a van and watch while his boyfriend, his best friend, and whatever Tony was to him got their heads kicked in.

He got out the van and then realised that he also didn’t have the courage to actually do anything more. His limbs froze up with terror and for a moment he thought he was going to just jump back in the van, slam the door and hide from the whole thing.

Nope, no, c’mon Bucky, this was Steve. Bucky had been jumping in to save Steve’s ass since they were tiny, he wasn’t going to back off now just because he’d spent the last few years hiding in his room.

“Hey Tony, Steve,” said Clint, wandering right in with his usual cheerful grin. There was an edge to it that Bucky hadn’t seen before, though. “Anything you need a hand with?”

“Hey, Clint,” said Tony. “Good to see you.”

Brock had him backed up against a wall with one hand knotted in his shirt while two of his minions were holding Steve back. Bucky could feel himself shaking from the combination of how much he wanted to go and rip their hands off him and the cold weight in his stomach that was making him want to throw up. Oh shit, oh shit, what the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t handle this kinda shit.

“More fucking carnie scum,” said Jasper, and he spat on the ground on front of Clint.

“That’s right,” said Clint, adjusting his stance in a way that made the bulk of his shoulder muscles very obvious. “How about you let our buddies go, and we say no more about it?”

Bucky forced himself to stay where he was, because trying to intimidate these guys into leaving wasn’t going to work out so well for Clint if Bucky just ran for it. Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and put on his most intimidating glare, the one he used to make sure everyone kept their distance. 

“How about you fuck off?” said Brock. “There’s more of us than you, and we all know Bucky’s too pathetic to be any help.”

Of course Bucky wasn’t going to be able to intimidate anyone who actually knew him. They all knew he was too weak to do anything other than put on a show of attitude.

Brock’s gaze flicked to his face and he snorted with amusement. “Look at him. Even if he wasn’t a fucking cripple, he’s clearly about to shit himself.”

“Fuck off,” said Bucky.

Steve pulled against the guys holding him, clearing sensing an opening now that everyone’s attention was on Bucky, and managed to get an arm free which he used to shove the other guy back. Clint immediately threw himself into the fight, lashing out at the nearest guy then ducking under his return blow.

Shit, this was it. The moment Bucky had known was coming ever since he’d stormed into Mr Coulson’s classroom and declared he was going to join the club. He needed to actually man up and take on a bully.

Fear paralysed him. All he could think about was Pierce’s laughter as blinding pain ripped through his arm and the smell of wet grass under his head as the train passed by.

“Stop or I’ll slit his throat!” shouted Brock over the noise of fighting. Everyone stopped and looked at him. He’d pulled a switchblade out and had it held to Tony’s throat, one arm looped around his chest as he held him in front of himself.

“Tony,” said Steve, taking a step forward as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Keep back,” said Brock. “I’m not kidding.”

“Anyone ever told you that you have anger issues?” asked Tony. Despite his tone, Bucky could see that he had his jaw clenched and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Steve. Brock responded by pressing the knife closer to his throat, until Bucky could see a red line forming.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” said Clint. “C’mon, what the hell? We’re high school students, not the fucking mafia.”

“You’re scum,” said Brock, voice shaking with anger. “You shouldn’t be allowed in schools with normal kids. None of you should. Fucking fags.”

“O-kay, is anyone else sensing deep psychological issues?” asked Tony.

“Shut up,” hissed Brock, pulling the arm around his shoulders tighter and pressing the knife in so that Tony made a choking noise.

“Look, there’s no need for this,” said Steve in his best ‘now come on, let’s be reasonable’ voice. “Let him go, or things are going to get bad for you. You think the school are going to be okay with a student who threatens other kids with a knife?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” said Brock. “I mean, it wasn’t a problem for Alex, right?”

The name stabbed through Bucky like an ice shard. He couldn’t hold in his reaction, sucking in a breath and taking a step back.

“Oh, didn’t I mention?” asked Brock, looking at him with a grin edged with something that made Bucky’s stomach turn over. “Alexander Pierce is my cousin. He told me all about you, Bucky, all about how you screamed and whined and cried like a bitch. I wish I coulda seen it.”

There was blood rushing in Bucky’s ears and he could hear the rattle of an approaching train.

“You fucking asshole,” growled Steve. His hands were clenched into fists at his side and Bucky knew it was only the knife glinting at Tony’s throat that was keeping him from pummelling Brock into the ground.

“Bucky,” said Clint softly.

Bucky just shook his head. He couldn’t cope with Clint right now, not with knowing he was hearing this. It was all he could do stand where he was and not just take off running.

“He wanted you to die, you know,” carried on Brock. “That was the whole point. He wanted to see a corpse.”

Bucky’s corpse. Pierce had wanted to see Bucky’s corpse, and he’d come damn close. Bucky started taking deep, slow breaths, like the therapist he’d put up with for less than a month had tried to teach him. It didn’t seem to be working, if the bands across his chest were anything to go by.

“Okay, so, you’re all fucking psychos,” said Clint, stepping in front of Bucky as if trying to shield him from Brock’s words. “I mean, I kinda got that the other day when you threatened a fourteen-year-old girl and smashed a deaf guy’s hearing aids but, seriously. What the fuck?”

Brock gave him an unhinged grin. Christ, how had Bucky spent all that time smoking with this guy and not realised he was a complete fucking psycho?

But then, he’d done the same thing with Pierce. Apparently he was just a really shit judge of character.

“Hey, Brock, maybe we should just leave it,” said Jasper. Bucky glanced around and realised that half of Brock’s friends were giving him unnerved looks. Apparently they hadn’t realised he was crazy as fuck either.

“Put the knife away, man,” added Jack. “If someone sees you they’ll call the cops.”

“Fucking pussies,” snapped Brock. He shifted his weight to glare around at them. “You can all—”

Tony moved so fast that Bucky almost missed it, ducking back into Brock’s body and rolling him over his shoulder to fall at his feet. Steve immediately stepped in, kicking the knife away from Brock’s hand and sending it skittering along the ground. For a moment it looked like he was going to kick Brock as well, catching him in the ribs as he sprawled on the floor, but he took a breath and stepped back instead.

“Hah!” said Tony. “Two semesters of judo at crappy boarding school number two totally justified.” He dabbed at his neck and then inspected his hand. “Barely even a scratch.”

Brock rolled away and got to his feet, glaring at his friends. “Thanks for the help.”

“Dude, you’re fucking nuts,” said one of them, shaking his head. He glanced at the guy next to him, then the two of them turned and walked away.

“Guess being a violent nutjob isn’t a great way to win friends and influence people,” said Tony. “Who’da guessed it?”

“I think this is the part where you fuck off,” said Steve, in a low, steady voice. Bucky was beginning to feel like he was standing on solid ground again, getting his breathing back under control. He was fine, he had friends with him, friends who would protect him.

Clint sent him a quick look, then stepped back to stand next to him, reaching out to take his hand. Bucky clung on, probably too tightly, but Clint didn’t say a word, just kept glaring at Brock.

“Fucking fags,” spat Brock.

“Brock,” said Jasper. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. That kid ran off towards the circus earlier, he might bring back adults.”

“You don’t want to get fucked up by the clowns,” said Clint. “They’re fucking brutal.”

“C’mon, man, let’s get out of here,” said one of the other guys.

Brock made a frustrated growl, then sent a glare around at Tony, Steve and Clint, ending on Bucky. “You wait,” he hissed. “I’m gonna get you alone, and then I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Bucky clutched tighter at Clint’s hand and did his best to glare back without showing the fear running through him.

“You’re going to end up in jail,” said Clint. “How’s that gonna go for you? Guys in there aren’t going to take this shit from you.”

Brock growled and lunged at him with his fist and Bucky couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t stand to see Clint hurt. He didn’t even think, he just moved, pushing Clint to one side to avoid the blow, and then sending a solid punch at Brock, catching him hard in the face.

“Don’t touch my boyfriend,” he growled, and it didn’t even sound like him. Adrenalin was fizzing up inside him and for a moment it felt like he could take on the world. Jesus, he’d actually stood up to an asshole rather than just crumbling and hiding.

“Fucking fags,” muttered Brock again, then he turned and finally left, taking his friends with him.

“Oh, wow,” said Clint, putting an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “My hero, seriously, I am so turned on right now…” He drew Bucky in and kissed him, but Bucky barely felt it. It was as if he was floating several inches above the surface of his skin. He reached out and clung at Clint as if that would ground him.

“Bucky,” said Steve. Bucky glanced over and met his eyes, and whatever Steve saw on his face made him relax and smile. “Hey, nice punch.”

“You know, I was the one who actually had a knife at my throat a moment ago,” said Tony. “Where’s my emotional kiss?”

Clint glanced over at him, gave him a once over and shrugged. “Sorry, Stark, you’re not my type.”

Tony huffed and his eyes darted at Steve and then away. Right, yeah, that had been the point of this whole thing. Bucky looked at Steve as well, and felt Clint follow his gaze.

Steve glance around at them, made a face that didn’t hide his smile, then turned to Tony. “Something like this?” he asked, and swept him up in his arms into a long, passionate kiss that ended with Tony bent backwards like a movie star.

“Nice,” said Clint. “Nine out of ten. You lose a point for Tony’s awkward flailing.”

He still had his arm tightly wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky leaned into it, wondering how long he’d be feeling as if he could jump over a building.

“Hey! You kids okay?” called a voice, and he glanced over to see a crowd of men heading their way, led by Pietro.

“Clint!” said Pietro. “Hey!” He glanced around. “Aw man, did I miss the action scene and arrive in time for the stupid kissy bit?”

“Hey guys,” said Clint. “Sorry, too slow, we already ran them off.”

One of the men huffed a sigh. “Fucking typical,” he muttered. “Finally a chance of action, and we miss it.”

“Action beating up high school kids?” asked one of the others. “Man, we’ve gotta get you to somewhere we can have a proper bar fight.”

Right, these must be the clowns that Clint had talked about. Bucky felt the last of his fear dissipate. Even Brock wasn’t going to try and rally his troops for another crack at them if they were surrounded by violent circus clowns.

****

Clint drove Tony and Steve to where Tony’s car was parked, then drove Bucky back to the circus with him.

“You still okay for this?” he asked. “I could take you straight home?”

Bucky shook his head. It still felt like lightning filled his veins, he couldn’t go home right now. “I want to go and make out in your trailer,” he said, with more certainty than he’d felt in years.

“Well, okay, I am totally up for that,” said Clint, parking the van. He patted Bucky’s thigh and grinned at him. “Anything for my hero, right?”

The inside of his trailer was not quite as purple as Bucky had been picturing, which was disappointing, but it was covered in just as much archery crap as he’d figured. There was a set of bunkbeds at one end and the top one was just covered in bows, arrows, bracers and a stack of textbooks.

“I thought your brother lived here as well?” he asked, glancing around. There was a tiny kitchen area, with one mug and a plate sitting in the sink.

“I mean, in theory,” said Clint. “He will be back again when we move on, but he’s found some chick to shack up with while we’re in town. I haven’t seen him for weeks.”

“Oh,” said Bucky. He looked around the trailer again, in the context of Clint living alone. “Isn’t he your guardian?”

Clint laughed as he grabbed a handful of clothes off the lower bunk and chucked them on the top. “He used to be, but I used to forge his signature for most shit back then, anyway.” He threw himself down on the bunk, shifting a pillow to use as a back rest. “You know I’m nearly 19, right?”

Bucky hadn’t known that. He followed Clint over to the bed and sat next to him. “Wait, so, you’re my sexy _older_ boyfriend?”

“Yep,” said Clint. “Every high schooler’s dream, right?” He put an arm around Bucky, drawing him in close. “Getting to go out with the guy who’s on his second go at a senior year, and who everyone knows is going to be dropping out.”

There was a self-deprecating note in his voice that made Bucky turn to kiss him. “It’s not like you haven’t been achieving other stuff, though,” he said. “What’s a diploma next to being a circus headliner?”

Clint made a face. “Yeah, I know, just— I don’t know. Would be nice to not be the drop-out carnie that everyone’s gonna assume I am.” He shrugged.

Bucky kissed him again. “You mean, the sexy, funny, kind, brave drop-out carnie? C’mon, Brock’s gonna end up getting a diploma, but you’re worth a hundred of him.”

“Well, okay, yeah,” said Clint, and he kissed Bucky back, shifting to put his hand on Bucky’s left arm. Bucky wasn’t able to stop himself from flinching at the touch and then wanted to kick himself, because he shouldn’t be discouraging Clint from touching him. Clint just moved his hand to Bucky’s waist without commenting and kept kissing him.

Bucky abandoned the conversation in favour of kissing Clint, wrapping his arms around him as Clint’s other hand trailed up and through Bucky’s hair.

They made out for what felt like an eternity, slow lazy kisses becoming deeper and more passionate, until Bucky could feel arousal surging through him and knew they either had to stop or-

Well. Or.

Clint’s body was warm and hard against his, and he could feel the shift of muscles as he ran his hand down his back to his waist, then plucked up all his courage, and the beers he’d had earlier, and slid his hand up under his shirt to run his fingers over Clint’s skin.

Clint twitched and Bucky immediately started to pull away. “No,” said Clint, “All fine, seriously, touch me all you want, just...your glove tickled me.”

Bucky had spent so long wearing fingerless gloves to cover the scars that extended down his arm onto his hand that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be able to feel things with more than just his fingers. He looked down at his hands, then stripped the glove off his good hand and ran that up Clint’s side under his shirt instead. The feel of smooth, warm skin under his palm made him shiver.

“Better?” he murmured against Clint’s lips.

“Oh yeah,” said Clint. “In fact, you know what?” He leaned back, gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off, chucking it to one side.

Bucky had to take a moment to cope with the sight of Clint’s bare chest. Wow, archery really did do a body good. He reached out to smooth his hands over Clint’s shoulders, then down his chest to his stomach.

Clint was looking at him with dark eyes, lips kissed red, and Bucky couldn’t resist moving in to kiss him again. “Fuck,” he muttered. “So hot, Clint, how the hell are you so hot?”

“Mostly so I can seduce sexy townies,” said Clint. His hands had crept under Bucky’s hoodie to his shirt, and then under that to curve around his hip. Bucky couldn’t keep himself from moving closer, until their bodies were pressed together. Clint was hard against his leg, and he knew that Clint could probably feel Bucky’s erection as well.

“You know,” he said, taking hold of the feeling of invincibility he still had from punching Brock, “you did promise to corrupt me when we first met, and yet, I’m still feeling pretty uncorrupted.”

Clint laughed with a low, rough tone that only served to turn Bucky on more. “Can’t have that. Even carnies gotta keep their word, right?”

He hooked an arm around Bucky’s waist, pushing him down onto the bed and turning them until Bucky was flat on his back with Clint was braced above him, a fucking smug grin on his face.

“Course, I also said that it was only proper corruption if you made the choice for yourself,” said Clint, hovering annoyingly out of reach of Bucky’s lips.

“Does it look like I’m making any other kinda choice?” asked Bucky, cupping a hand around Clint’s head and pulling it down until he could kiss the asshole. “Nowhere else I’d choose to be, trust me.”

Clint’s grin softened and he pressed an affectionate kiss to Bucky’s lips that was at odds with the heavy, passionate ones that had preceded it. “And yet, you’re still fully clothed,” he pointed out.

That sounded like a dare to Bucky, so he pushed him off and half sat up so that he could rip his hoodie off, gripped the bottom of his Henley and pulled it up as far as his armpits, then hesitated. No one except doctors and his parents had seen his arm since the accident, not even Steve. Bucky kinda wanted to keep it like that and he definitely didn’t want to ruin this moment by having Clint staring at the mess Pierce had made of him.

“Hey, you don’t have to,” said Clint, covering over Bucky’s hands with his own. “We don’t have to do anything, we can just kiss and chat, and then I’ll take you home.”

Bucky shook his head stubbornly. “No way, man, I want this.” He pressed his hips up against Clint’s to prove it. “I want you,” he added. His hands still wouldn’t move though. “Just, uh. I can’t— “ He made a frustrated noise and let go of the shirt. “Can we leave it like that?”

“Sure,” said Clint, running a hand down Bucky’s cheek. “We can do whatever you want.”

Bucky was so sick of being treated like he was breakable and yeah, okay, maybe it was justified from his family and Steve because they’d seen him break, but Clint hadn’t been around for any of that. Bucky didn’t want him putting on kid gloves for him.

He surged up, grabbing Clint around the waist and then shoving his hands down the back of his pants to squeeze at his ass. “I wanna be corrupted.”

“Fuck, yeah,” said Clint, kissing him as he pushed him back down on the bed. Bucky kept his hands right where they were, pulling their cocks together and thrusting up in a way that made arousal burn up his spine. God, he was so fucking hard.

“Okay, okay, we’re definitely doing this,” said Clint in between kisses. “Just, just— Bucky.” He pulled away. “You have to tell me what to avoid, yeah?”

Bucky opened his mouth to tell him to just fucking get on with it already, and Clint pressed his fingers to it. “This isn’t going to be any fun for either of us if I somehow mess up,” he said. “I know you’ve got things you don’t like, I’m not saying you have to tell me why or anything, just…please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ugh, the worst thing was that he was actually right. Bucky glared at him until Clint moved his hand. “Just don’t touch my arm, okay?” he said. “That’s pretty much it. For now.” At some point he should probably mention that anything to do with trains was a bad idea, but he didn’t see that coming up in the next hour or so.

“Okay,” said Clint. “So, I’m okay to do this, then?” He bent his head and kissed at Bucky’s neck, then descended to where his shirt was still pushed up and kissed his chest as well, tiny, sucking kisses that made Bucky’s blood thrum. “Or this?” added Clint, and paused to suck Bucky’s nipple into his mouth.

“Jesus,” hissed Bucky, back going taut at the sensation that ran through him.

Clint gave that sexy laugh again and kept going down, over Bucky’s stomach to the waist of his jeans, where he paused and looked up. “Can I-?”

“Fuck, yes,” said Bucky, not bothering to let him finish. “Nowhere near my fucking arm, right?”

Clint undid his zipper, then there was an awkward bit of fumbling as they both tried to get Bucky’s jeans off without Clint being tipped out of bed or Bucky kicking him. They didn’t quite manage it.

“Okay,” said Clint, lying on his back on the floor, “I probably should have seen that coming.” 

Bucky finished pulling off his jeans and dumped them on Clint’s head. “If you’re having fun alone down there, guess I’ll just have to entertain myself.”

Clint sprang up to his feet. “Nope, no way,” he said. “I’m the one doing the corrupting, remember? Just, let me—” He fumbled with his own pants, pulling both them and his boxers off, leaving Bucky to just blink at the sight of him completely naked.

“Jesus,” he said weakly. “The Amazing Hawkeye.”

Clint laughed and climbed back into the bed, straddling Bucky’s hips. “Live and in the flesh,” he said. “Performing for your pleasure, for one night only.”

Bucky reached out and ran his hands up Clint’s thighs. The glove he was still wearing on his bad hand caught on Clint’s leg hairs. “For more than one night, I hope.”

He stopped before he got too close to Clint’s cock. He wondered how blindly obvious it was that this was the first time he’d got up close and personal with someone else’s erection. Jesus, he wanted to touch it so badly, wanted to wrap his hand around it and see if he could make Clint moan, wanted to see what it tasted like, wanted it pressed against him and, yeah, he even kinda wanted it inside him, although the idea made his stomach turn over in a vaguely sickly way. Okay, so, maybe he wasn’t ready for that quite yet, but the rest…

He reached out with his good hand and trailed his fingers up Clint’s cock.

“Fuck,” muttered Clint. “Bucky—”

Bucky wrapped his hand around it and gave a firm pull, and Clint’s words cut off into a whining noise followed by a swear word.

“Jesus, who’s corrupting who here?” asked Clint in a half-gasp.

“I figure we’re working together to a common goal, right?” said Bucky, doing it again and watching as Clint’s face flushed red and his mouth fell open to suck in air. His lungs were working hard, highlighting his pecs and making his abs flex. Bucky reached out with his other hand to touch them, pressing fingertips to the soft skin of his belly.

He wanted to feel more than that, but his fucking glove was in the way.

Sweat was beading on Clint’s skin and Bucky could feel pre-come beginning to slick beneath his hand. Shit, either he didn’t touch Clint at all with his left hand, or he was going to end up with a glove that reeked of sex.

Frustration filled him. “Fuck it,” he muttered to himself. “Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.” He let go of Clint’s cock, which caused a sad whimper, brought together all his courage and just how much he wanted to be able to touch Clint everywhere he could and stripped off the glove. He threw it to the ground next to the rest of their clothes and gave Clint defiant look, daring him to comment on the scars that descended from his wrist, or the way two of his fingers didn’t connect at quite the right angle any more.

Clint wasn’t even looking. He had taken Bucky’s distraction as a chance to lie down on top of him, pushing his erection against Bucky’s and then kissing him with open-mouthed breathless enthusiasm.

“Bucky, Bucky,” he breathed. “You’re— Fuck.”

He pushed a hand inside Bucky’s underwear, gripping at his cock, and Bucky forgot everything about his hand in the surge of lust. He heard himself moan and pressed up into Clint’s grip. He ran both his hands down Clint’s back, pressing his palms against every inch of his skin. God, this was so much better without gloves, he shoulda taken them off ages ago.

“Yeah,” said Clint. “Yeah, just like that. Fuck, so fucking _hot_ , Bucky.”

He kissed Bucky again and Bucky did his best to kiss back, running his hands down Clint’s shoulders to the base of his back, clinging onto him as they moved together, Clint thrusting against Bucky’s leg as he pulled him off.

Bucky came first, shuddering and gripping at Clint’s back tighter than he should, tight enough to make his bad hand spasm with pain and force him to let go.

“Jesus, Bucky,” muttered Clint, and he pushed his face into Bucky’s neck, thrusting down into him once, then twice, before coming himself, come slicking up Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky drew in two ragged breaths, then ran his hand up to scratch over Clint’s head, teasing over the short hairs at the back of his neck. “Well, I feel corrupted,” he said.

Clint started laughing, rising up to look down at Bucky with a bright grin. “You’re welcome,” he said, and kissed him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bucky**

 

Just like every other teenage boy on the planet, Clint had some tissues tucked under his bed. He wiped them both clean, but there wasn’t much that could be done about Bucky’s come-encrusted boxers. Next time, he’d make sure to get them off before that happened.

The bunk wasn’t really wide enough for them both, but Bucky didn’t mind pressing close to Clint with his good arm wrapped around him, faces close enough that it didn’t take much movement to kiss.

It was warm and perfect, and kinda felt like they were the only two people in the world. Bucky was perfectly happy to believe in the illusion.

“You know, I really do like your hair,” said Clint, running his hand through it. “Most guys with long hair don’t know how to look after it properly and it’s all greasy and untidy. Yours is always so soft.”

“Go figure,” said Bucky. “I’m the only teenage boy in the country who knows how to wash his hair properly. It’s my claim to fame.”

Clint laughed. “That’s right. We’re the Amazing Hawkeye and the Impeccable Shampooer. Best partnership ever.”

“That’s terrible,” said Bucky. “No way.”

Clint ran his hand down Bucky’s side to his hip, and then back up again. “Well, Impeccable Conditioner makes it sound like you’re brainwashing people.” 

His hand grazed against Bucky’s bad elbow and Bucky flinched, then hated himself. It had barely even been a touch, and all he was doing was drawing attention to it.

Clint dropped his hand back down to Bucky’s hip immediately. “Sorry,” he said.

Bucky sighed. “I should be the one apologising.” He leaned his face forward to kiss him and then press his forehead against Clint’s, squeezing his eyes shut so that he couldn’t see his face. “You know what I’m tired of?” he asked. “I’m so fucking tired of being on-edge about this damn thing all the time.”

It was a truth that felt ripped out of the heart of him. Just hearing it aloud made something inside relax, as if just admitting it was enough to calm down some of the wild anxiety trying to batter down his walls.

“Hey,” said Clint softly, stroking over Bucky’s hair again. “I get it. Things happen, and they suck, and then you can’t shake them and it sucks even worse. I get it, you don’t have to be sorry.”

Bucky opened his eyes, because it really did sound like Clint knew what he was talking about. The look on his face was all too knowing and another part of Bucky relaxed.

“I, ah,” started Clint, hesitating than pressing on. “I wasn’t always deaf, you know. My dad was an asshole. He used to get drunk and then violent, and one time I pissed him off somehow, can’t even remember how now, and he beat me so badly my ears never recovered.”

He said it all in a rush, as if pulling a bandaid off. For a moment, Bucky wasn’t even sure he’d heard right, and then he didn’t know how to react. What the hell did you say to something that shit?

“Jesus, Clint,” said Bucky. “That’s— I’m so sorry.”

Clint shrugged. “Long time ago, I mostly try not to think about it, and he’s dead now anyway, but— I just meant I get it, okay? Whatever you need me to do to make it easier for you, just say. You don’t ever have to explain yourself, just, please, let me know so I don’t make things worse without knowing, okay?”

How the hell had Bucky managed to end up with someone this awesome? He curled up tighter around Clint, pressing his face into his shoulder as Clint closed his arms around him.

Fuck it. Everyone else important in Bucky’s life already knew, and maybe it was time to stop pretending that if he didn’t talk about it, it would go away.

“I was on the baseball team,” he said. “Did you know that? I think most people have forgotten now, but I was the best pitcher in middle school.”

“I can believe that,” said Clint. “You have great aim, you know.”

Bucky smiled into Clint’s shoulder. “Flatterer.”

“I say it like I see it,” said Clint, kissing the top of Bucky’s head, which was probably all his mouth could reach.

Bucky turned to settle in closer, keeping his face turned away from Clint. If he was going to tell this story, he didn’t think he could do it while looking at Clint’s face. “I did Little League as well,” he said, “and then when I started at high school, I was on the team. We had practices after school, so I used to walk home alone.” He ran his fingers over the line of Clint’s spine. “I used to be able to do that then,” he added.

“It’s over-rated,” said Clint.

Bucky let out a long, slow breath. He’d love to be able to just get places on his own without always having to rely on other people. 

“I didn’t do it alone for long. Turned out the captain lived out my way and walked home the same way, so he used to walk with me, talk to me. It made me feel all, you know, mature and shit. A senior, the captain of the team, talking to a lowly freshman most days after school. He’d ask my opinion on training and strategy and stuff.”

He shook his head. “I was so fucking stupid. I thought he was a friend. A couple of times he and his friends went to a coffee shop after practice, and he asked me along.”

“No,” said Clint, “he was stupid. He should have grabbed the chance to be friends with you, you’re incredible.”

Bucky snorted. “I think you’re biased cuz you like making out with me.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not wrong,” said Clint, stroking over Bucky’s hair, “but seriously. If this guy didn’t realise how great you are, he’s a dick.”

“Well, he’s definitely a dick,” said Bucky. He took a deep breath and forced himself to say the name he’d been hiding from for years. “His name’s Alex. Alexander Pierce.”

There was a pause. “The guy Brock was talking about. His cousin,” realised Clint.

“Yep,” said Bucky. He could feel himself shaking, but he just clung on tighter to Clint and forced himself to keep going. “After practice one day, he said him and a few of his friends were going somewhere cool, asked me to join them. We went down to the rail tracks — there used to be a hole in the fence out by the lake where you could get through. They fixed it up after.”

Clint’s hand was still combing through his hair. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on that, and the feeling of Clint’s skin pressed against his.

“We got to the tracks and Alex started going on about how he’d been watching _Stand By Me_ , you know, the film. About how the kids in it walk along a train track to find a dead body?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.”

Bucky shrugged. “I hadn’t. Probably never will now.” He took a deep breath. “He said it had inspired him, and I said I didn’t much fancy walking along the tracks, because of how often trains go along them, and—” He stopped and drew in a slow deep breath. Clint stayed silent, but his hand kept stroking through Bucky’s hair, and he wrapped his other arm around him a bit tighter.

“He said that wasn’t the bit he meant. He wanted to see a dead body. Two of his friends grabbed me and I realised he meant mine, and I tried to fight, I did, but they were so much bigger. There’s, there’s a bend in the track there, so we couldn’t see the train coming, but we could hear it, getting closer and closer while they held me, all ready to throw me in front of it, and Alex, the guy I thought was my friend, just kept _grinning_ at me—”

He broke off. He could feel tears in his eyes, and his breathing had gone weird and painful.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said Clint, rubbing down Bucky’s back. “You’re okay. You don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want.”

“I want to,” said Bucky, and he turned, shifting so that he was looking down at Clint. “I don’t— I can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen.” He kissed Clint, then took a deep breath. “The train came around the corner and they pushed me in front it, but I grabbed one of their shirts and managed to pull myself back so it didn’t hit me full on. It just hit my arm.”

Fuck, it had hurt so much. The force of the train had sent Bucky flying, landing him on his back on the grass so hard that the shock of it drove everything out of his mind, everything except the burning in his arm. For several long seconds he’d thought that his arm was gone, because there was no way it could hurt that much and still be attached.

He’d still been struggling to get his breath back when Alex had leaned over him.

Bucky pulled himself back to the present and cleared his throat. “Alex wasn’t happy that I hadn’t died. He told me I was pathetic, that he’d only talked to me for that and I couldn’t even get that right, then he spat in my face and they left me there.”

He took a deep breath, and then another one when the first one didn’t really seem to help him push away the memory of just how that had felt.

Clint put his hands on either side of Bucky’s face, holding him still. “That sucks so bad,” he said. “I hate that that happened to you. Please tell me this fucker is rotting in jail right now.”

Bucky couldn’t hold in a bitter laugh. “He’s at fucking Cornell.”

The rage in Clint’s eyes was instant and blinding. He pulled Bucky down towards him then rolled them so that he was the one braced over Bucky, covering him with his body. Bucky was kinda impressed he managed it without rolling them both out of the bunk.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” he said. “The fuck? How the hell did he get away with that?”

Bucky shrugged. “He’s the mayor’s son. No one was there except for his friends and me, and the train driver barely saw anything. They played it all off as _boys will be boys_ and _they didn’t mean it to go that far_ and _he’s got a bright future, don’t let one mistake ruin it for him_. He got away with some bullshit wrist-slapping sentence, community service or whatever. I was in hospital for months while they did a bunch of surgeries and by the time I was out he’d graduated high school and half the town had already forgotten about it.”

Clint took a long, careful breath. “If you want me to go find him and shoot an arrow in him, I will,” he said, and Bucky could tell he was deadly serious.

Warmth bloomed in his chest and he stroked over Clint’s cheek. “Your dad’s not the mayor,” he pointed out. “You’d go to jail. I don’t want to lose you.”

Shit, was that too heartfelt? Apparently not, if the swift smile that Clint gave him before he leaned in to kiss him was anything to go by.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “But I totally would, if you wanted me to.”

Bucky wouldn’t have thought he’d have found it so easy to smile after going through the emotional nightmare of telling that story, but somehow Clint just pulled one out of him as if it were as easy as breathing. A surge of affection ran through him and Bucky had to keep his jaw tight to stop himself saying something stupid.

Fuck, how had he been so lucky as to meet this guy?

And what the fuck was he going to do when the circus moved on and he lost him again?

Clint leaned close to kiss him again, slow and warm, and Bucky ran his hands over his skin. Did they have time to have sex again?

Shit, what was the time?

He jolted upright, barely avoiding smacking his head into Clint’s. “What time is it?”

“Uh,” said Clint, blinking at him, then casting about for wherever he’d dropped his pants, trying to pull his phone out of the pocket. “I don’t know, hang on...11.38.”

“Shit!” said Bucky, scrambling out from underneath him. “Shit, shit, shit! I was meant to be back by 11.30!”

He started throwing on his clothes with shaking hands. It figured that the one time he actually left the house he missed his curfew. Fuck, he was totally going to end up grounded, something that would have just bounced off him before he met Clint but now he wanted to be able to come back and hang out here again, hopefully as often as possible.

Clint was getting dressed as well, just as quickly. “Shit, sorry man, I totally forgot that you had to get back.”

Where the fuck was Bucky’s other glove? He pushed aside a stack of arrows, then turned to hunt under the bed. “My parents are going to _kill_ me,” he moaned. 

“What about if you blame Brock?” asked Clint, shoving his feet into his shoes without undoing the laces. “Getting attacked by a bully oughta be good for a half hour delay, right?”

“Are you kidding?” asked Bucky, finally finding his glove and pulling it on. “After the thing with Pierce? They’ve spent enough time freaking out about me getting attacked by assholes, I can’t do that to them again.”

Clint blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, okay, guess I didn’t figure on that.” A rueful smile crossed his face. “I kinda forgot that parents worry as well as get pissed.”

He pulled the van keys out of his pocket. “Ready? Bet I can get you home before midnight.”

Bucky checked the time again, then headed for the door. “Without killing us?”

“Sure,” said Clint, as they left the trailer and headed for the van at a half-jog. “Not like there’s gonna be any traffic, right?”

“I fucking hope not,” said Bucky.

They threw themselves into the van and Clint had the engine started before Bucky had shut his door, bumping off across the field faster than was advisable.

It was 11.58 when Clint pulled up outside Bucky’s house after a hair-raising drive across town.

“I win,” he said, giving Bucky a slanted grin.

Bucky already his door open, but the look on Clint’s face made him stop short. He couldn’t just run out on this guy.

He leaned in and kissed him, fast and rough. “You’re the best,” he said, then put more meaning into his voice, because this guy had held him while he poured out the worst thing that had ever happened to him earlier. “Seriously, the actual best.”

“Yep,” said Clint easily, but there was a pleased look in his eye that made Bucky think he was less blase about the compliment than he appeared. “Go on, get gone, I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Bucky, kissed him again, and hopped out of the van.

He shut the door, then turned to face his house. The light in the living room was on, which wasn’t a good sign. He drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and reminded himself that he’d punched Brock Rumlow this evening and could totally face his parents.

Shit, what if they could tell what he and Clint had done? He hadn’t exactly taken the time to properly clean himself up. For a moment he was tempted to get back in the van and let Clint drive him away again.

No, no more being a coward.

The house was silent when he opened the front door. He was wanted to just put his head down and head for his room, but that probably fell into the cowardly column, so instead he took the two steps forward to the living room door and glanced in.

His parents were on the sofa together, his mom’s feet in his dad’s lap, and they were both looking at him.

“Um. Hi,” he said lamely.

“Hello,” said Mom. She glanced pointedly at the clock and then back at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky mumbled. “We lost track of time.”

She nodded, then raised an eyebrow at Dad. “ _We_.”

“Was that your boyfriend who gave you a lift?” asked Dad, deceptively mildly.

Bucky just nodded, fear closing up his throat.

“That was nice of him,” he said. “Hey, do you remember when we used to lose track of time together?” he asked Mom and oh god, no, that was the worst, Bucky would willingly take any punishment over his parents reminiscing about their teenage years.

“Oh yes,” said Mom, with a self-satisfied smile that made Bucky want to die inside. She turned a much harder look on him. “If you’re going to be spending so much time with him, I think we better meet him properly, don’t you? Invite him to dinner.”

Okay, so Clint was going to share his punishment. At least Bucky wouldn’t be in hell alone.

“Sure,” he said, nodding. “I’ll ask him.” He backed away. “Better get to bed then. Night.”

“Good night,” said his mom, far more pleasantly than she meant it.

Bucky escaped, already pulling his phone out to text Clint and let him in on the horror as he headed up the stairs.

He was halfway through the text when he made it inside his room, shut the door behind him with his foot and realised there was a punishment much, much worse than dinner waiting for him.

Sitting innocently in the middle of the covers was a pamphlet.

_Safe Sex For Gay Men_

Bucky just stared at it, then crumpled to the floor. Oh god. He was never going to be late home again.

****

**Tony**

 

Steve’s hand was resting on Tony’s thigh and he was relaxed as Tony drove him, rather than tense and sniping about traffic laws. Tony wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t hallucinating. 

“We’ll need to make Brock a priority for the club,” said Steve. “Keep tabs on him so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” said Tony, risking a bit more gas if Steve wasn’t going to complain about the speed limit. “I’ve got a plan for him.”

Steve turned and raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve robots.”

“Oh honey, you know me so well,” said Tony, taking his eyes off the road to beam at Steve for longer than he probably should, but Steve was just so goddamned pretty to look at. “And yet, no robots will be involved.”

“Tony!” hissed Steve, and Tony glanced back at the road to see he was swerving a little close to a streetlight. He corrected his steering and grinned back at Steve.

“No sweat, baby.”

Steve gave him a very careful look. “Tony, are you drunk?”

“Nope,” said Tony, because he knew drunk, and this wasn’t it. “Merry, maybe, but I didn’t get the chance to get drunk, I had to throw most of my bottle of whiskey at Brock’s goons.”

Ah, that expression was a far more familiar one. “ _Most_ of it? Tony, how much did you drink?” Steve glanced back at the road, reaching to hold onto the handle on the door. “You’d already had a few beers.”

“C’mon, I’m a Stark,” said Tony. “It’d take way more than that to impair my judgement.”

“Pull over,” said Steve, firmly.

Tony ignored him. “And, what? You’re going to drive?” Steve’s lips tightened. They both knew he didn’t have his permit. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. It’s not as if it’s much further.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Fine, fine,” he said. “Just… _carefully_ , yeah?”

“Sure,” said Tony, giving him a grin and speeding up again. Steve groaned.

Steve directed Tony to his building and Tony parked up opposite, then turned towards Steve. “So, do I get a goodnight kiss?”

He couldn’t shake the idea that this thing with Steve wasn’t going to last past the evening. Every time it had been awhile since they last kissed, Tony started second-guessing himself, thinking that Steve was going to wake up and realise that he was making a mistake, that he’d been right earlier not to want anything to do with a Stark.

Not this time, though. Steve leaned across the gap between the seats and kissed him, cupping a hand around Tony’s neck.

He pulled back far sooner than Tony was ready for him to. “Tony, you taste like whiskey.”

“That’s kind of a thing that happens when you drink whiskey,” agreed Tony, leaning in to try and kiss him again. Steve let him, but was still frowning when they separated.

“I can’t let you drive home like this,” he said. “You need, I don’t know, water or food or something to sober you up.”

“Coffee,” said Tony, immediately. “There’s gotta be a coffee shop still open somewhere, right?”

“Around here?” said Steve. “Probably not.” He hesitated, then ducked his head to look up at his apartment where a light was on, and then glanced at his watch. “I can’t anyway, I need to get home.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Do you have some kinda crazy-early curfew or something?”

Tony had never had a curfew, but he knew it was a thing other people’s parents got worked up about. Still, this seemed pretty early in the evening, especially for a Saturday night.

“No,” said Steve, “it’s—” He made a face, then took a deep breath. A look of resolution came over his face. “Look, Tony. Earlier, at yours, when you kissed me.”

Ah. This was where he said that he’d made the right decision the first time. Tony put on a mask so that his emotions wouldn’t be obvious. “Yeah?”

“No,” said Steve immediately. “No, don’t look like that, no, I’m not— Tony. I swear, this is what I want. I’m not changing my mind.” He leaned in and kissed him again. “And what I said, that was uncalled for and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay,” said Tony, thinking that he needed to work on his mask if Steve could see through it that easily. He rested a hand on Steve’s hip, trying to shift closer and then giving up when the handbrake got in the way.

“You took me by surprise and I said some stupid shit,” said Steve. Huh, Tony didn’t know he knew how to swear. “But it was because I don’t think I can be in a relationship.”

Tony blinked. Oh. Okay, this was _that_ speech. Tony was usually on the other side of this speech. “So, what? You just want a couple of hot dates and no commitment?” he said. “Sure, okay—”

Steve pressed a finger to his lips. “Stop pretending you’re fine with stuff when I can see the truth in your eyes,” he said. “I want to date you, okay? I mean, I guess you want to date me, Bucky said you did.”

“I really do,” said Tony, because if Steve was going to be honest with him, then he should probably be honest back. At least a little bit.

Steve smiled at him and kissed him again. “Okay, good. Good.” He gave him another kiss, then glanced up at his apartment again. “Except, I’m probably going to be a really bad boyfriend.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And I’m not? Have we met?”

“You’ll be fine,” said Steve. “Trust me.” He kissed Tony again, then took a deep breath. “Look, it’s my mom. She’s sick.”

That was the last thing Tony had been expecting. “Sick?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. He pulled back to run a hand through his hair. “She has been for months, it’s not— the doctors—” He cut himself off, then took a deep breath. “She needs a lot of care,” he said instead of however that sentence had been going to end. “I’m not gonna be able to hang out with you much outside of school, I have to head straight home pretty often, and I can’t stay out late, or do much at the weekends or just... Tony, I barely have enough time to hang out with Bucky.”

He made a face. “I didn’t think this through,” he said, in a quiet voice as if talking to himself. “I can’t do this.”

“Hey,” said Tony, reaching for Steve’s hands. “No, hey, Steve. Listen, whatever time you can spare for me, even if it’s only when we’re at school, that’s good enough for me. Seriously.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, thank you.”

“And I’m sorry about your mom,” added Tony. “That really sucks.”

Steve just shook that off with a twist of his shoulders. He opened the car door. “C’mon, you can meet her.”

Tony stared at her. “What?”

“Come on,” repeated Steve. “You can have some coffee and a bit of a break so that you’re not driving home half cut.”

He got out before Tony could protest that it was way too early in the relationship for the ordeal of meeting the parents, especially if he was going to be doing it while a bit tipsy.

Steve strode off across the road without waiting for him and Tony had a sudden urge to just drive off, but he had a feeling that would be a very easy way to end this thing before it even really started.

Reluctantly, he got out of the car and followed Steve.

The elevator in the block had a yellowing ‘Out Of Order’ sign on it and Steve headed automatically for the stairs. Tony thought about being an invalid in a building without an elevator, wondered how easy it was to fix, and was lost in a world of schematics as they headed up three flights to Steve’s floor. Would Steve mind if he came over tomorrow with some tools? Probably. He should wait until at least next week.

Steve paused outside the apartment door and gave Tony a look as if he was about to say something, but swallowed whatever it was and pulled his keys out instead.

The apartment was small and the furniture looked a bit worn, but it felt warm in a way Tony’s house never quite managed. Steve’s mom was on the sofa in the lounge, resting against pillows and covered with a blanket, watching some film on TV. She turned her head towards the door slowly, as if it were a struggle, and then just stared at Tony.

“Hi, Mom,” said Steve. “This is Tony.”

“Tony,” she repeated, then pulled herself upright against her pillows. “Tony Stark?”

“That’s me,” agreed Tony, trying out a charming grin. She kept staring, then directed her gaze at Steve, who gave an awkward shrug.

“I guess he’s kinda my boyfriend now?”

“Kinda your boyfriend,” she repeated, then a grin lit up her face and she turned back to Tony. “It’s lovely to meet you, Tony. I wish you luck with dropping that ‘kinda’.”

“Thanks,” said Tony, glancing at Steve, who had sighed and was looking at the ceiling with resignation. “Actually, I needed to apologise to you. I heard you were hoping for strippers at the party tonight so you could get photos, and I let you down.”

Steve’s mom laughed as Steve went red and buried his face in his hands. “Why did I think introducing you two would be a good idea?”

“I’ve really no idea,” said his mom. “So this is Tony Stark. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know, and something about your face really does look familiar.”

“Oh god,” muttered Steve. “Mom, just stop. Tony’s gonna go make himself some coffee,” he nodded towards an open door leading to a kitchen.

“On it,” said Tony, heading that way. “You guys want anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” said Steve’s mom.

“I’ll have a coffee too,” said Steve. “If you don’t mind.”

“It’s your coffee,” Tony pointed out as he headed inside the kitchen. It was tiny, which hopefully meant it would be easy to find the mugs.

Through the doorway, he could hear Steve and his mom talking, although they were being quiet.

“Tony Stark,” said Steve’s mom, with a meaningful edge to her voice. “The billionaire’s son Tony Stark? The one you told me you couldn’t stand?”

“That was last year,” said Steve, as if that were a lifetime ago. Tony thought back to first meeting Steve and thought that it might as well have been.

There was the sound of sofa springs. Tony ducked his head to see Steve steadying his mom’s arm as she stood up, then shuffled backwards so that they wouldn’t spot him watching.

“The most popular boy in school,” said Steve’s mom, and let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe you are like your father.”

Steve sighed. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

They left the room and Tony concentrated on making coffee. Okay, so important things first. Why the hell hadn’t he known about this earlier?

There was a raft of Things Of Which We Do Not Speak that floated under their friendship group, of which Bucky’s arm was probably the most obvious, but there was also why, exactly, Sam had transferred to their school and what had happened to his last best friend before Steve, why Natasha muttered to herself in Russian when she was angry and never mentioned her parents, the whole thing with Thor’s brother and, well. Probably Tony’s parents, although he tried to pretend that no one had noticed that they never came to school events.

At any rate, despite the fact that they were Things Of Which We Do Not Speak, everyone kinda knew about them, even Tony, who hadn’t been around for most of them. You heard bits and pieces, people gave meaningful looks, you were explicitly warned not to mention such-and-such in front of so-and-so and so on, until you’d built up a picture. 

And yet, there hadn’t been a single hint that there was anything up with Steve’s mom. There was no way the gang were that good at keeping secrets, which meant no one knew.

Well, no one except Bucky.

What was it he’d said? _He’s got stuff going on at home._ Christ, that was an understatement.

But then, if you were going to pick someone to keep a secret, you’d pick the guy who barely said two words together if he could help it. And you definitely wouldn’t pick Tony. He had enough awareness of his own faults to know that once he started talking, he sometimes just didn’t stop until it was way too late.

Tony had two mugs ready when Steve came back and was leaning against the worktop with his cradled in his hands. For a moment, Steve paused in the doorway and just looked at Tony. There was something very vulnerable in his eyes as he gave a half-shrug.

“So, you see how I’m gonna be a bad boyfriend?”

Tony just snorted. “You’re going to be the best boyfriend, because you’re you,” he said. “Come on, do you have any idea how long I’ve been crushing on you?”

Ah yeah, case in point on the running his mouth off thing. Tony had been intending to play it cool on the lusting-after-you-since-I-met-you thing.

“No,” said Steve, finally moving further into the room to pick up his coffee. “How long?” He was giving Tony an amused half-smile that made Tony want to kiss him.

Oh right, he was allowed to do that now.

He leaned in and kissed Steve. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said, which didn’t really make any sense, but Steve didn’t seem to notice. He just let his half-smile play out into a full-sized one, and Tony realised how rare it was to see that.

Well, if he was worrying about his mom all the time, that was probably understandable. Tony knew how that felt.

And how it felt to never be able to talk about it.

“You know, my mom’s sick too,” he said, and yep, there it was, damnit, Tony, keep your damn mouth shut for once. Maybe he was kinda drunk. He took a sip of coffee as if it could force the words back down.

Steve frowned at him. “Isn’t she in New York with your dad?”

“Yep,” said Tony. “She’s wasting all the energy she has on pretending to be a hundred percent fine for the evening.” He shrugged a shoulder. “We’re not allowed to admit she’s sick, you see. Not even to each other. She’s just _tired_ or _having a bad day_ or _got one of her heads_ , it’s not at all that she’s been caught in depression for years, and self-medicating with alcohol to the point where she’s basically a pod person. Going to a gala knocks her out for a week, but she can’t possibly not go, no, then people might _talk_. Much better that she go through hell faking it and then spend a week locked in her room, drowning in whatever shit her brain is throwing at her and barely even able to _see_ me.”

Fuck, he was crying. He dumped the mug on the worktop and turned away to hide his face, wiping at his eyes. “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to make this about me, just meant to say. I get it, okay? I get that you’ll prioritise her right now, and that’s cool. I’d do the same if there was a damn thing I could do.”

Arms encircled him from behind, which he hadn’t been expecting, and Steve tucked his head in over Tony’s shoulder to kiss his cheek. “God, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

Tony leaned back into his warmth and drew in a deep breath, forcing his emotions back down. “Yeah, well. It is what it is.” He turned so that he could sling his arms around Steve’s neck and kiss him properly. “I’m sorry too. Your mom seems like a great person.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d get along,” said Steve. He kissed Tony again, his arms tightening around him, and Tony took a moment to just enjoy how it felt. He hadn’t realised how nice it would feel to be held by someone taller than him, surrounded on all sides by Steve and his affection for him.

“If I admit to being kinda drunk,” he said into Steve’s shoulder, “will you let me hang around a bit longer so that we can go to your room and make out?”

Steve chuckled in his ear. “I’d be up for that anyway,” he said, “but now I’m gonna make you bring your coffee.”

“Oh no, the hardship,” intoned Tony, pulling back to grin up at Steve, which earned him another kiss. He really could get used to this.

****

They’d been squashed together in Steve’s bed making out for about half an hour when Tony’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Tony let out a groan at the interruption, but Steve pulled away and gave him a meaningful look until Tony, grumbling, pulled the phone out and answered it.

“Honeybear, this better be good.”

“You’re kidding, right?” asked Rhodey. “You speed off in your ridiculous car with a bottle of whiskey and a black cloud over your head, don’t come back for hours, and you think I need a good reason to call you?”

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve, then turned to settle against him. Steve tucked an arm around him, which was nice.

“Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much, Platypus?”

“Jesus, Tony, this is _you_. I probably don’t worry enough,” asked Rhodey. “I left off calling you for nearly two hours, during which time you could have got up to all kinds of shit. In fact, you could probably have ended Western civilisation in that time.”

Tony opened his mouth to deny that, then considered it. “I think I’d need at least five hours for that.”

Rhodey let out a long sigh. “Tony. Tell me you’re okay and I don’t need to come rescue you from the drunk tank or something. I’d have called earlier but… Well. Steve went after you.”

“Yeah, he did,” said Tony. A warm glow had settled in his stomach that had nothing to do with the whiskey and everything to do with how clear Steve had made it over the last half hour that he really, actually liked Tony. “I’m in his bed right now.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Rhodey in tones of despair, just as Steve went pink and hissed Tony’s name.

Tony grinned at Steve. “Okay, chill, my honour is still intact, we’re fully clothed and on top of the blankets.”

Rhodey carefully pulled in a breath, then let it go. “Okay, listen, Tony. The reason I’m calling now is that people are starting to leave, and we haven’t got any keys or anything to lock up. When are you getting back, so we’re not just leaving your house open to being robbed?”

Tony was so tempted to just tell him to leave the house to the fates so he could stay here snuggled with Steve, but the thought of the robot he was working on in his room stilled his tongue. Besides, Steve probably didn’t want Tony hanging out all night.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “I’m coming back. Give me twenty minutes.” He looked at Steve’s ruffled hair and kiss-bruised lips and amended that. “Maybe half an hour.”

He hung up and moved back in to kiss Steve again, who allowed it for a beautiful long moment before pushing at Tony’s shoulder. “C’mon, if we start that again there’s no way I’m gonna let you go.”

“Not seeing the problem there,” said Tony, but he made himself pull away, swinging his legs off the bed and running his hands through his hair to tidy it. It turned out that Steve was quite a fan of messing it up, which Tony could totally learn to live with.

He hadn’t really taken in much of the room when he’d had Steve to concentrate on. It was small, pretty much just the bed and a desk, but there was an easel in the corner by the window that immediately drew his attention. It was turned so that the canvas on it faced the wall. Tony glanced at Steve, then back at the easel with a quirked eyebrow.

Steve made a face, but nodded. “Yeah, okay, just…it’s not close to finished.”

Tony was up and turning the easel in seconds. The canvas on it was a lot larger than Tony was used to seeing from Steve’s artwork and only half-filled, but what was there was enough to make him blink and grin.

“Oh man, Steve, this is awesome.”

He didn’t know how Steve had managed to make everything look as if it were in motion, as if Tony could blink and Natasha would be swinging off her trapeze and into Steve’s outstretched hands, Clint’s arrow would fly out to hit the target swinging from the purple ribbons and Thor would bellow out his satisfaction at lifting the enormous hammer he was brandishing over his head. Other figures were only sketched in for now, but Tony could see where Bucky was going to be posed at Clint’s side, knives hanging in mid-air, and how Sam’s falconer’s costume seemed to include a set of wings.

And right in the centre, arms spread as the action circled around him, was Tony himself, in black tails and a red waistcoat, top hat held out in one hand as he beamed out of the picture at the audience.

“It needs a lot of work,” said Steve, sounding tense. Tony tore his eyes away to glance at him and got a self-deprecating shrug. “I mean, I can’t seem to get Bruce right, and I need to get some reference photos for knife-throwing, and—”

“It’s incredible,” said Tony, looking back at it. “Seriously, Steve, I can’t wait to see it finished. How the hell have you managed to make it so obvious who everyone is while dressing them up in whole new outfits?”

He couldn’t stop looking at the image of himself, grinning and confident as everything just happened around him. Was that how Steve saw him?

Steve shrugged. “Lots of time sketching,” he said, waving a hand at the stack of sketchbooks on the desk. “I’m gonna submit it as my final piece, do you think anyone’s going to mind me using their faces for it?”

“Are you kidding?” asked Tony. “They’re going to fucking love it. Screw them, _I_ fucking love it, you’re gonna let me take a high-res photo when it’s done so I can get it printed out as a poster for my wall, right? I’m gonna need to have this on my wall.”

Steve laughed. “I mean, sure, if you want.” He climbed off the bed and slid an arm around Tony’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder as they both looked at the picture for a moment.

“I was thinking Rhodey here, juggling flaming torches,” he said pointing to a blank section of the canvas. “He’d be okay with juggling, right?”

Tony laughed. “Of course, he’ll love it.”

The reminder of Rhodey made him finally tear his eyes away and turn in Steve’s arms to kiss him. “Speaking of, I really have to go before he just leaves my house with the door wide open and a sign saying ‘help yourself’.”

Steve made an unhappy face and kissed Tony in return. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you Monday morning, yeah?”

Tony opened his mouth to insist that they hang out tomorrow, then shut it again and just nodded. Steve had made it clear that he needed to help his mom right now, Tony needed to respect that. He had to not do what he always did, which was to push and push and push until the other person just got sick of him and cut their ties. He couldn’t handle that happening with Steve.

“Be early,” he said. “We’ve got a meeting with Fury first thing.”

Steve stared at him. “We do? What—”

“Uh-uh,” said Tony, pressing a finger to his mouth and forcing himself to step away so that he wouldn’t just stay here kissing Steve all night. “Allow me my air of mystery, will you?”

“Fine,” said Steve. “Okay, just promise me I’m not gonna regret it.”

Tony gave him his very best innocent look. “When has anyone ever regretted going along with one of my plans? C’mon, Steve.”

Steve snorted his amusement, but Tony generously let it go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Steve**

 

Steve knocked on Bucky’s day early enough on Monday morning for him to expect to find Bucky only half-ready. Instead, the door flew open and Bucky bundled through already in his coat, bag over his shoulder.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” he said, as if Steve had been late rather than early. “Let’s go.”

The door opened before they’d even made it to the street.

“Hello, Steve,” said Mrs Barnes. “Have a good day at school, Bucky. Say hello to Clint for me.”

Bucky made a desperate sound in his throat and glared at her, then hunched over his shoulders and stormed off so fast that Steve had to jog to catch up.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Bucky gave him a despairing look. “I was late for my curfew on Saturday.”

Steve stared at him. “Wow, have you ever even needed a curfew before?” he asked, and then frowned. “Wait, how did you manage that? Clint was dropping you off, wasn’t he?”

“We, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat. “We went back to his trailer and hung out there for a bit.”

Steve glanced at him, then kept looking as a faint blush tinged Bucky’s cheeks. “Hung out,” he repeated slowly. “And exactly what kind of _hanging out_ was that?”

Bucky went redder. “Just regular hanging out,” he snapped.

“Right,” said Steve, drawing the word out. “And you were both fully clothed throughout, right?”

Bucky stared up at the sky. “Shut up, Stevie,” he muttered. “Jesus, this is just like being at home.”

“You told your parents that you had sex with Clint?” asked Steve, incredulously.

“What?” said Bucky. “No! Just. Um. They seem to have guessed, and it’s been such hell, seriously, my mom keeps making little jokes that could mean anything but obviously only mean one thing and my dad told me the best place to get free condoms and there was a _pamphlet_ and, Jesus, Steve, it’s been the worst weekend, seriously.”

“Except for the bit where you had sex with Clint, right?” said Steve, and he can’t keep the grin off his face.

“Oh, fuck off,” said Bucky, glaring at him. “This is— I don’t get why you’re all so damned happy. Aren’t most parents against the idea of their kids having sex?”

Steve shrugged, because there was no way for him to explain that they were all just so pleased to see him opening up to people and doing normal teenage things, not without sounding like some kind of proud mama bear, and he tried to avoid that. Bad enough that Bucky had just lumped him in with his mom and dad under the umbrella ‘parents’. “Your parents have never been like most parents.”

Bucky let out a long sigh. “Yeah, true,” he muttered. “Enough about me, you gonna tell me what’s going on with you and Tony?”

That was probably fair, but Steve couldn’t imagine anything he wanted to do less. He gave a sort of shrug. “Just, you know.”

Bucky stopped so suddenly that Steve thought he’d walked into an invisible wall, turned to Steve and pushed him back against the wall with his good arm and glared at him. “Oh no, Rogers, no way you get away with that. I haven’t been listening to you go on about Tony since he started here, then given you the pep talk to end all pep talks when you’da been idiot enough to just let him get away, just so you could palm me off with that bullshit. Spill.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, took another look at the glare in Bucky’s eyes, and deflated. “Okay, fine. I guess we’re dating now. I, uh. He was kinda drunk so I made him come in with me, have some coffee and we, um, talked a bit.” He hesitated, then added, “I introduced him to my mom,” because Bucky would get more from that than anything else Steve could have said.

Bucky stared at him, but did at least let go. “You told him she’s sick?”

Steve couldn’t keep in the flinch because he really didn’t like hearing it out loud, but nodded. “I mean, it’s kinda obvious once you meet her.”

“Jesus,” said Bucky, softly. “You really do like him.” 

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just tried out another awkward shrug. He got away with that one.

“I hope the guy know how lucky he is,” said Bucky, turning back to carry on walking. “And that if he messes up, I’m gonna mess him up.”

It was the kind of threat Bucky made a lot, but always with a tight note to it that made it clear he knew it was just words and he wouldn’t be able to back it up. That note was missing this time. Steve thought about the way he’d punched Brock on Saturday and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll make it clear to him.”

Tony was already waiting for them when they got to school, sitting on the hood of his car with his sunglasses on, looking like a model or something. For a moment Steve couldn’t believe that he actually knew this guy, let alone was dating him, then Tony turned and grinned at him. He hopped up off the car and strode over.

“You’re looking typically gorgeous this morning,” he said, and kissed Steve before he had a chance to process that. “Man, I’ve wanted to do that every morning for about a year.”

Steve ignored Bucky’s amused snigger. “I hope it was worth the wait.”

“More than,” said Tony, and kissed him again. “Hey, Grumpy Cat,” he said, as if noticing Bucky for the time. “Cool, cool, most of the gang’s here, just waiting on Legolas.”

“The gang for what?” asked Steve.

Tony waggled his eyebrows. “For the final comeuppance of Brock Rumlow, of course.”

Natasha and Pepper came out of the school building before Steve could ask any further questions. 

“Fury’s already in and ready for us,” Pepper said to Tony, who nodded.

“Clint said he’d get here early,” he said. “In fact, speak of the devil…”

The circus minivan pulled into the parking lot and Bucky straightened up with a smile Steve didn’t think he was aware of. He hoped like hell he wasn’t that obvious around Tony, but given that at some point he’d hooked an arm around Tony’s waist without realising it, he had a feeling he probably was.

Clint hopped out and gave Bucky a beaming grin as the other circus kids got out and corralled themselves to head across the road to the middle school. Pietro stayed with Clint and Wanda as they headed over to say hello.

“Morning,” Clint said to Bucky, stopping just short of him so that it was Bucky’s decision to reach out and kiss him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Steve approved of that, and wondered if Bucky had noticed that Clint giving him the space to make that decision.

“I’m not hanging around if this is just going to be a love-in,” said Pietro, giving both them and Steve and Tony a disgusted look.

“No worries, Blonde Bombshell,” said Tony, “now the gang’s all here, we can go see Fury.”

Pietro looked uncertain about that, glancing up at Clint, who shrugged at him. “If Tony thinks it’s a good idea, then… Well, then it’s probably a terrible idea, but if Pepper’s involved, I think we can trust it.”

“Okay, I just want to say that I really appreciate everyone’s trust in me, seriously,” said Tony. “It warms the cockles of my heart. C’mon, let’s get this done.”

When they trooped into Fury’s office, squashing close so they could all fit in, Fury glanced around at them all and let out a sigh. “What is this, an invasion?” He looked at Pepper. “You couldn’t have just summarised whatever this is without an audience?”

“No, she couldn’t,” said Tony, pulling away from Steve to move to the front. “For one thing, this is my show, and for another, these aren’t an audience, they’re witnesses.”

“Witnesses,” repeated Fury, slowly. “Christ, Stark, what are you up to now?”

Tony sent him a bright smile and Steve began to wonder the same thing. Damn, he really should have pressed Tony for information rather than just blindly going along with this.

“I’m presenting evidence,” Tony said. “You see, since we set up our as-yet-unnamed club, we’ve been gathering intelligence on the extent of the bullying problem here, and the same names have been cropping up time after time. Well, just the one name, really, Brock Rumlow, but he has goons, so…”

“Goons,” repeated Fury slowly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Stark, this isn’t a mafia movie, and I didn’t agree to this club so that you could victimise one person in particular.”

Tony nodded. “Yep, right, thought you might say that, hence the evidence and the witness.” He waved around at the others. “Allow me to present my case, and then you can decide if we’re victimising, or if he’s an asshole.”

Steve had to resist the urge to poke Tony in the back over his language, but Fury didn’t say anything. He just looked long-suffering, which was pretty much the same expression he always had.

“Calling my first witness, Natasha Romanov,” Tony said, with a dramatic gesture.

Natasha sent him a withering look but stepped forward. “I was gathering information on what kind of stuff we needed to be looking out for,” she said. “There’s a small group of sophomore girls who think they’re in _Mean Girls_ , and the usual posturing from various jocks, but the vast majority of the people I spoke to who said they’d had a problem named Brock Rumlow as the instigator.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and handed it to Fury. “This is my report.”

Fury glanced at it. “You wrote a report,” he said slowly.

“Of course,” said Natasha.

“Right, of course,” said Fury. He looked back at Tony. “Carry on then, Counsellor.”

Tony nodded. “My next witness is Pepper Potts, who I’m willing to bet has also written a report.”

Pepper nodded as she pulled out a folder. “It’s got graphs,” she added, passing it to Fury. Steve had to clear his throat to avoid laughing at the look on his face.

“Tony asked me to canvas the other girls on my squad about the levels of sexual harassment that they’ve received from boys at this school,” said Pepper. “89% of them reported some form of harassment, which are broken down by category in section one—”

“Of course they are,” said Fury, opening the folder. Steve caught a glimpse of a brightly coloured pie chart.

“Of those, nearly half had had an experience involving Brock Rumlow,” carried on Pepper. “There were two or three other names that came up several times, but Brock’s was clearly in the lead. That’s section two.”

“Right,” said Fury, turning some more pages. “Can’t help but notice that there’s no names on any of this. I am gonna need more than anonymous data.”

Pepper reached out to point. “They asked for it to be anonymous. Look at section three, it’s the percentage of those girls who’d reported an incident to a teacher, which is pretty small, and the reasons those that hadn’t gave. You’ll see that most of them didn’t think there would be any point.”

“The people I spoke to said the same thing,” said Natasha. “No point in reporting a bully when all he’ll get is a wrist-slap, because you’re just setting yourself up for him coming after you for revenge.”

Fury was frowning now, which was good. Hopefully he was realising just how toxic the culture in this school was, and that it needed to change. Steve crossed his arms to keep himself from breaking in, because Tony had stepped forward to say something.

“Yeah, that was the second thing we wanted to bring up,” he said. “No one thinks there’s any chance of proper punishment for this kinda thing, and that can be traced back to pretty much one incident.”

He glanced at Bucky with an apologetic look, giving Steve just enough time to realise what was coming.

“Alexander Pierce,” said Tony.

Bucky flinched and stepped back to rest against the wall, arms folding and shoulders hunching over. Clint moved in closer to him, hovering protectively but not touching.

“That was several years ago,” said Fury.

“Right,” said Tony. “Most of the school weren’t here then, but they’re all local kids. They watched it happen, heard all about a student trying to kill another student and getting away with it. They saw the photos of him graduating with the rest of his grade and going off to an Ivy League college, and they don’t see the point in complaining about lesser offences from a guy who has all the same connections.”

Tony leaned both hands on the edge of Fury’s desk, facing him down. “And it’s escalating.”

Fury eyed Tony’s hands pointedly. “Mr Stark, do control your dramatic gestures.”

“Yeah, not really my strong point,” said Tony, straightening up and turning towards the others. “Okay, you’ve got the reports on the scale of the problem, let’s get personal. Wanda, you’re first chronologically, tell him what happened to your lunch.”

Wanda had been contentedly hiding at the back with Pietro and clearly hadn’t been expected to be called on, or for everyone to turn and look at her. She stared at them all.

“Go ahead,” said Fury. “No need to be nervous, I’m gonna be pleased just to not be listening to Stark’s voice for a bit.”

Tony rolled his eyes but stepped back next to Steve to give Wanda the floor. His shoulder knocked against Steve’s as Wanda started speaking and Steve took the chance to lean in close and speak to him.

“When did you get all this organised?”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “I had over twenty-four hours, and my boyfriend wasn’t around, so— Besides, c’mon, you think Pepper didn’t have 90% of that report already done?”

“I’m still impressed,” said Steve, which earned him a pleased look that Tony turned into a leer as soon as he became aware of it.

“If you find that impressive, you wait until we’re alone,” he said.

Steve rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to Wanda.

Tony got Clint to tell Fury what happened to his aids after that, which made Bucky clench his fists and glare at the shabby carpet. When Clint was done, Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him against him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Clint leaned contentedly back against him.

At some point Steve would stop finding his best friend’s relationship adorable. Probably.

“Okay,” said Fury. “That’s all very troubling, thanks for bringing that to my attention.” He looked down at the reports again with a frown.

“Oh, there’s more,” said Tony, pulling away from Steve. “I’d like to call our special guest witness, Pietro Maximoff.” He gestured at Pietro, who stepped forward and gave a deep bow.

Fury frowned at him. “You’re not one of mine, are you?”

“Nope,” said Pietro. “I’m from across the road, and I am probably going to be late for homeroom because Tony didn’t bother mentioning how long this was going to take, thanks for that.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m sure your teacher will be understanding if you tell him you were testifying on the behalf of the oppressed teenagers in this town.”

“I don’t think Mr Lehnsherr has ever managed to be understanding in his life,” said Pietro.

Fury sighed. “I’ll write him a note. Please, just get to the point before we all expire of old age, will you?”

“Tell him about Saturday,” Tony said to Pietro.

Pietro spread his hands. “Picture the scene. The moon was full and shadows lurked around every corner as I headed back home after picking up milk for my mom. In the dark, owls hooted and—”

“Pietro,” interrupted Wanda, and snapped something in Sokovian that made Pietro sigh.

“Okay, okay, fine. I was walking along when Brock and a couple of others whose names I don’t know came out of alley and started in on me. Calling me carnie scum, all that kinda thing. I told them to go fuck themselves, which didn’t go down too well, and they bundled me off down the alleyway and hit me a few times. Which was when my hero in designer labels came into view and fought them off for me.”

“When you say they hit you,” said Fury, slowly.

Pietro pulled up his shirt to reveal a purpling bruise on his ribs. “Tada! Hey, should you have taken a photo to submit to the judge?” he asked Tony.

“No one wants to see a photo of your skinny ribs,” said Tony. “C’mon, cover up.” He turned back to Fury. “Things got worse after that. Me and Steve chased Brock and his friends off: it was Jasper Sitwell and Jack Rollins, in case you’re wondering, but I’ve got all this written down so you’ve got a copy of it as well.”

He pulled a couple of folded sheets out of his bag, uncreased them and tried to smooth them out and dumped them on Fury’s desk. “Pepper told me that it was always best to put these things in writing.”

“Fantastic,” said Fury, heavily. He stacked it on top of the rest of the reports.

“So, Steve and I walked Pietro back home, and got about halfway before Brock came back with a whole bunch more guys, some from school and some older ones. Pietro got away, because he runs like greased lightning, but they cornered me and Steve. They called us a few names — homophobic slurs mostly, which is another trend you might want to look at — then they hit us a bit— Relax, I’m not going to take my shirt off to show you.”

“Shame,” said Steve, very, very quietly. Apparently not quietly enough, if the look Bucky gave him was anything to go by.

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Clint and Bucky turned up before things got too bad but we were still pretty out-numbered and…Well.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve got the rest recorded.”

“You recorded it?” asked Steve.

“Sure,” said Tony. “What’s the point of having Starktech in your pocket if you don’t use it to stitch up bullies?”

He set the recording to play. It wasn’t nearly as fuzzy as Steve would have guessed a recording from inside Tony’s pocket would be.

Listening to Brock’s taunts again, in the cold light of day, made it clear just how unhinged the guy was. Steve drew his arms around himself and watched as Bucky rested his chin on Clint’s shoulder and Clint turned press a kiss to his cheek.

_“Stop or I’ll slit his throat,_ ” said Brock on Tony’s phone.

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife wrapped in a plastic bag and set it on Fury’s desk.

“You picked that up?” asked Clint.

Tony shrugged. “I didn’t think we should be letting him keep it.”

“ _Tony,_ ” Steve heard himself say, and the memory of just how it had felt to see Tony be threatened like that came back in a hard flood, bile rising up in his stomach.

The rest of the recording played itself out, then Tony turned it off.

“I’ll email you the file,” he said to Fury, tucking the phone back in his pocket. “Now, what do you think? Is this enough evidence that you’ve got a homicidal maniac in your school to make you do something, or is Brock gonna end up at Cornell with his cousin?”

Fury sent him a hard look. “I’ve allowed you a lot of leeway here, Stark, but I don’t think you need to be talking to me like that.”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. See, the thing is, I’m Tony _Stark_ , so if we’re playing the game of whoever’s got the most powerful daddy gets to make the rules, I reckon I’m running the show.”

“That is not how things work,” said Fury, with a glower. “Stop throwing your weight around, Tony. I will deal with this, don’t worry, but you don’t get to dictate to me.” 

He looked over at Bucky, who looked like the only thing keeping him from one of his dramatic storm-outs was Clint’s presence in his arms. “I do want to apologise to you, Barnes. Mistakes were made with the way Alexander Pierce was treated, and I have regretted that ever since. I can promise you, the same thing won’t happen again.”

Bucky jerked a stiff nod, then Fury glanced around at the rest of them. “Right, you can all get out now, you’ve made your point. Pietro, wait a minute and I’ll write you that note.”

Pietro hung back and the rest of them headed out.

“Well, I think that went okay,” said Tony.

Steve laughed. “Only you could pull that much drama out of a meeting with the principal.” He couldn’t stop himself from putting an arm around Tony’s shoulders though, grinning at him. “It was pretty impressive.”

“Not as impressive as Pepper’s pie charts,” said Clint, giving her a nod. “Nice. Very nice.”

“Thank you,” said Pepper. “There’s just something very restful about statistics, don’t you think?”

“No,” said Clint.

Bucky snorted. “You relax by shooting arrows into shit,” he said. “I don’t think you get to judge.”

****

Rumour spread fast in the school. By recess, everyone knew that Brock Rumlow and his closest friends had been pulled out of class for a meeting with Fury, and by lunch the talk was all about what it meant that Brock’s parents had come in and had been locked in with Fury for nearly an hour before they’d taken Brock and gone home.

“He’s totally been kicked out,” said Sam, as he and Steve settled down under the tree for lunch. Christ, it was getting cold, they really were going to have to find a table inside for the next few months.

“He might just have been suspended,” said Steve.

Sam made a rude noise. “Not even our shitty school is going to keep a guy on who threatened to stab another student.”

Steve hoped like hell he was right.

Tony dropped down at his side, then sprawled out practically on top of him. “Steve, Steve, it’s too damned cold to be out here, why can’t we eat inside?”

“We’ll eat inside tomorrow,” said Steve. “I guess I’ll just have to keep you warm until then.” He wrapped an arm around Tony, who snuggled into it with a bright grin that Steve really hoped he was going to see a lot of. He hadn’t really realised how many of Tony’s grins were just fronts before, but now he was properly paying attention, it felt like way too many of them.

Well, he’d just have to set himself a mission to change that. He bent down to kiss Tony’s forehead.

“Gross,” said Sam. “Watching Bucky and Clint is bad enough, come on.”

“Screw you, we’re adorable,” said Clint. He was sprawled out over the grass with his head in Bucky’s lap.

Sam snorted and threw a twig at him. “No way, Bucky’s never been adorable in his life.”

Steve thought about the photos of Bucky at Little League that used to be scattered around his parent’s house before Bucky made them clear out everything related to baseball. “Wanna bet?”

Bucky pointed a finger at him. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, just no.”

Steve smirked at him.

“Mmm, anyone ever tell you that you’re sexy when you’re evil?” asked Tony, and kissed him.

Sam let out a very long sigh.

“Brock’s been expelled,” said Natasha as she sat down. “Jasper, Jack and most of the others have been suspended. Fury got a phone call from the mayor, and pretty much told him to fuck himself but, you know. In adult language.”

“Okay, seriously, how do you find this stuff out?” asked Sam. Natasha just gave him a small, amused smile.

Clint sat up. “So, wait, we won? We ousted him and his asshole friends? And we did it by letting _Tony_ talk to the authorities?!”

“I know, I’m as freaked out as you are,” said Tony.

“To us!” said Sam, raising his can of soda in a toast. “Or, well, you guys I guess, because somehow I got left out of this one just because Brock didn’t try to stab me.”

“Sucks to be you, man,” said Clint. “But yes! Go us! Revenge has been exacted, all is well with the world.”

“Not revenge, wrong word,” said Tony. “Makes us sound like the bad guys. Or, the troubled anti-heroes even, but not good guys, good guys don’t get revenge, they…. Ah. They avenge other people, yes, much better, makes us sound noble as shit.”

“I like that,” said Steve, consideringly. “We avenged all those others, the ones in those reports.”

All those cheerleaders who’d just accepted that boys got to treat them like shit because no one was going to stop them, and the freshmen who had lost their lunches or money or more to Brock and his guys. That wouldn’t be happening anymore, especially as, hopefully, they’d now made it clear to anyone else who thought crushing those weaker than them was okay that there would be consequences.

He glanced down at Tony, who had been the driving force behind it all, and wondered why he’d ever thought he was too self-absorbed to want to help anyone.

“The Avengers,” said Bucky slowly, then glanced over at Steve. “Sounds like a club name to me.”

“Yes!” said Clint, turning to him and landing a solid smacker of a kiss on his mouth. “You’re so smart, of course it is.”

“The Avengers,” said Natasha, slowly. “I guess it works. And it doesn’t have Tony’s name in it.”

“You don’t think Tony’s Avengers would sound better?” asked Tony. “You know, like _Charlie’s Angels_?

“No,” said at least three people in sync. 

Steve didn’t bother checking to see who had spoken with him. “The Avengers on its own is fine. I mean, we’re all graduating this year, right? It has to be a name that can go on without us.”

“Aw man, you’re gonna make me cry,” said Sam. “The end of an era, everyone going their separate ways, friendships breaking down into acquaintances…”

Natasha glared at him. “Stop. No one wants to hear your pessimism right now.”

“Hey,” said Tony quietly to Steve as the conversation moved on. Steve turned to him, leaving the others to tell Sam to shut up. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Where are you applying? Art schools, right? You’re way too good to go off and major in English or some shit like that.”

Steve stared at him. How the hell had this guy come over to Steve’s apartment and met his mom and yet, still thought college was any kind of option? “Tony, I’m not going to college,” he said. “I’ll be looking for a job once I’ve graduated. Hell, probably even before then.”

“What?” said Tony, frowning. “No way, you’re smart, I mean, not as smart as me, but no one is, and, seriously, your art skills are epic, you should be doing something with them.”

Steve scowled. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about with a billionaire’s son.

He felt bad about that thought a moment later, because it wasn’t Tony’s fault that he had no idea how the real world worked. “There’s no money,” he said, stiffly. “Mom hasn’t been able to work in a while and the jobs she had before that didn’t come with medical insurance so we’re kinda buried in debt. I would’ve got a weekend job this year but she wouldn’t let me. There’s no way we can afford college.”

Tony stared at him, opened his mouth, and then shut it with a snap. “If I offer you money you’re gonna get offended,” he said, as if just realising it.

“Yeah,” said Steve. “So don’t.”

Tony opened his mouth again, but Steve was turning back to the rest of the group. Pepper had arrived and the others were filling her in on their new name.

“Yeah, I can make that look good on a poster,” she said, thoughtfully.

“Sounds great,” said Steve, ignoring Tony’s irritated sigh.

****

**Clint**

 

Clint usually hated the winter season. For the last few years he’d barely seen Barney during it, they got stuck in the same small town for months at a time where most people regarded them with suspicion, and as much as Clint wanted to go to school, actually doing it and being surrounded by kids who hated him was pretty shit.

Plus, Carson always seemed to decide they’d winter somewhere where it got fucking freezing and Clint’s trailer had pretty much no insulation, so he spent most of his free time huddled under blankets.

This winter season, though, might well come close to being the best season of his life. Having friends at school made a huge difference to how it felt to walk through those doors every morning, not to mention that none of them seemed to mind helping him with work he’d missed, so he was actually getting decent grades. He’d be on track to graduate, if there was any hope of him being around long enough.

Bucky’s family invited him to dinner a couple of times, had him over for Thanksgiving, and then apparently decided to just include him in everything they did. He didn’t kid himself that that had much to do with him as opposed to their enthusiasm for getting Bucky out of his shell, but it was still nice to have somewhere to go after school that had people to talk to and, you know, central heating. Plus, Bucky’s mom’s cooking was much better than the crappy meals Clint usually threw together for himself.

And then there was Bucky himself. Clint didn’t really want to put words to his feelings about Bucky because the months were already counting down to the point where he’d have to go back on the road and leave him behind, and that was going to be hard enough without him having quantified just how much Bucky meant to him.

Actually, this was definitely the best season Clint could ever remember, which was probably why it seemed to be flashing past. When the semester ended, it felt like he’d only arrived a week or two before.

“Aha! And I beat you again,” Clint crowed, dropping his controller back on Bucky’s bed so that he could do a victory dance.

Bucky huffed. “I think I liked it better when you were new to gaming and I could kick your ass every time.”

“Never underestimate the hand-eye coordination of a Barton,” said Clint. He glanced at the door, which Bucky’s parents insisted they left open when they were in his room together, then leaned over to kiss Bucky. “I mean, I can think of times when you’ve seemed to enjoy it.”

Bucky sent his own glance at the empty landing before kissing Clint again. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Because the great thing about having your own trailer and no parents around was that you could get up to all kinds of things with your boyfriend without worrying about family members wandering past an open door.

Footsteps headed their way and Bucky pulled away with an irritated sigh.

“Clint, what time are you intending to get here on Christmas Day?” asked Bucky’s mom as she appeared in the doorway. “We’ll be going to church in the morning, but you’re welcome to join us. Otherwise, we’ll be back by 11.”

“I’ll come after that,” said Clint. No way he was getting up early on Christmas to hang out in a drafty church, listening to some dude bang on about some all-powerful deity who either didn’t exist or who clearly didn’t give a shit about Clint. “If that’s still okay.”

“Of course!” said Bucky’s mom. “You’re more than welcome, you know that. Bucky’s Nana is excited about meeting you.”

Clint found a weak smile for that. Christ, meeting the parents was one thing, meeting the grandparents was another level.

“Oh yeah, she’s totally excited about meeting her only grandson’s boyfriend,” muttered Bucky. “She hasn’t been making any pointed comments about carrying on the family name _at all_.”

“Maybe I should tell her that I’ll happily take your name when we get married,” said Clint. “It’s not like being a Barton means a whole hell of a lot.”

“ _When_ you get married,” said Bucky’s mom, with amusement. “Something you should be telling me, Bucky?”

“Yeah, we’re heading to Vegas for New Year’s,” said Bucky. “Nana will be cool with an Elvis wedding, right?”

His mom gave him a wide, sincere smile. “As long as you’re happy, sweetheart, we’re happy.”

Bucky made a face. “Ugh,” he muttered. Clint really respected the way his parents were able to wind him up using nothing but heartfelt declarations of affection.

“You’re both going to Tony’s for his Christmas party tonight, aren’t you?” asked Bucky’s mom. “Are you having dinner here, Clint?”

Clint shook his head and glanced at the time. “I should get going now, actually. There’s some kinda important circus meeting happening that I should probably show my face at.”

He leaned in to kiss Bucky, then realised that maybe he should have waited until Bucky’s mom had left. Whoops. Ah well, it wasn’t like it was his mom, right?

“I’ll see you at Tony’s,” he said.

Bucky nodded, glanced over at his mom then clearly decided he didn’t give a shit and kissed Clint back. “Looking forward to it.”

There was a warm glow in Clint’s chest as he headed downstairs, past all the photos of Bucky and his sisters as they were growing up. He could get used to this thing where people cared about him and wanted to have him around.

****

Clint got to Tony’s late. Everyone was already gathered in the lounge, half of them wearing Santa hats that Tony had almost certainly forced on them. He’d got increasingly over-excited as they got closer to Christmas, until he’d announced he was having everyone over on the day before Christmas Eve, and wasn’t accepting any excuses not to be there. He’d turned something of a glare on Steve at that point, who’d just rolled his eyes and said he’d do his best.

Apparently, his best was good enough, because Steve was standing beside Tony at the snacks table, rolling his eyes with fond indulgence at whatever Tony was saying.

“About time,” said Bucky, pulling himself up from where he was slumped with a bottle in his hand. He stepped over to kiss Clint, then paused and frowned at him. “Something’s happened. What’s up?”

Clint had thought he’d be able to hide this until later, when they could talk without everyone watching them. Apparently not.

He shrugged. “Carson’s got our first few dates of next season booked in. We’re gonna be leaving in early March.”

“March?” repeated Bucky, numbly. “But… that’s a lot earlier than you said.”

“Yeah,” said Clint. His heart sunk even further at the note in Bucky’s voice, because he sounded just as devastated as Clint felt. Damnit, they’d both known this was coming, why did it still hurt so much? “Apparently, we’ve got such a strong line-up at the moment that we can elongate the season, or something. I kinda stopped listening, I was too busy trying to work out if there was any point going back to school next semester.”

Aw man, he’d meant to sound cool and blasé about that, but instead even he could hear that he was about to burst into tears. He took a deep breath and found a smile for Bucky. “I figured I would, if only so I get to have lunch with my boyfriend.”

“Oh, Clint,” said Bucky, reaching out to take Clint’s hands in his. Both of his hands, and usually it made Clint happy every time Bucky touched him with his bad hand without even thinking about it, because it meant he trusted him. Now it just made him realise that he wasn’t going to get to watch Bucky slowly opening up and letting people in for much longer.

“Aw, crap,” Clint muttered as the tears welled up. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to let this get to him, but apparently that had been overly optimistic.

Bucky wrapped his arms around him and Clint pressed his face into his shoulder and let his misery roll through him. Fuck, this was ridiculous, he’d loved being part of the circus when he was younger, why the hell was he so torn up this time?

Well, okay, there was an obvious answer to that, an answer that was letting him hold on to him a bit too tightly and stroking a hand over his back, but it wasn’t just that. This was the last year that he’d be at school, he’d been hoping to get a bit closer to graduation than March.

Fucking _March_.

“This is fucking bullshit,” muttered Bucky.

Clint choked out a laughter through his tears. “Right, exactly what I was thinking.”

He let himself just cling on to Bucky for a bit longer, then pulled away, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to get all— you know.”

“Hey,” said Bucky quietly, cupping a hand around Clint’s face. “No apologies. I get it.” He leaned in to kiss Clint. “I know how much you wanted to graduate.”

“Yeah,” agreed Clint, clearing his throat. “But we both knew it was never gonna happen, right?”

“No,” said Tony, and Clint startled back from Bucky, because he’d forgotten that everyone else was present and watching. Christ, he’d just cried in front of everyone, that was awkward.

“No, no, no,” said Tony, pulling away from Steve. “I’m not gonna let this happen.”

“It’s not up to you, Tony,” said Steve.

Tony whirled on him and jabbed a finger in his direction. “Quiet, you. You won’t let me solve your problem, I’m damn well gonna solve Clint’s.”

“By paying the circus to hang around another few months?” asked Bucky. “I get you’re rich, but even so, that seems a bit much.”

Tony shook his head. “Nope, you’re looking at it wrong. We don’t need the circus to stay, we just need Clint to leave the circus.”

Clint stared at him. He’d never even once considered walking away from the circus. “Uh. And what? Live under a bridge? My trailer belongs to Carson.” He shook his head. “Besides, I’m the Amazing Hawkeye, I kinda need to be part of the circus for that.”

And he liked being part of the circus, liked performing in front of people and getting to show off how awesome archery could be. Or, at least, he had. When he pictured going back on the road now, all he could see was the space he’d have in his life where Bucky and the others should be.

Damnit, he should have known that having friends would backfire on him.

“They’d let you take a leave of absence, wouldn’t they?” asked Tony. “I mean, it’s not prison, you could hang out here until graduation and then catch up with them, right?”

“Hang out where?” asked Clint.

Tony raised an eyebrow, then gestured at his house with a flourish. “You realise we have an obscene amount of unused rooms, right?”

Clint laughed. “Oh sure, and your parents won’t mind a homeless carnie moving into one of them.”

“Oh please, as if they’d even notice,” said Tony. “C’mon, it’s the best plan, I bet we can hide you for a few months, you can graduate, be ridiculously in love with your boy, all that.”

Clint was so, so tempted, but he forced himself to shake his head. “I’m not going to move into a house without the owners of it being aware.” The thought of it was making his heart leap, but he couldn’t let himself hope like that. It would only hurt more when he got crushed.

“Fine, then I’ll talk to my parents,” said Tony. “I can’t imagine them caring much, it’s not like we couldn’t move four other families in here and still never see each other.” 

“Tony,” said Steve, coming up behind Tony and putting his hands on his shoulders. “I know you’re trying to help, but—”

Tony whirled on him. “No, stop. Just stop, Steve. Look around you; I live in _ridiculous_ luxury, I have _ludicrous_ amounts of money for a guy still in high school, and for what? Because dear old Dad set up a company? How the fuck does it make sense that I get all this when you— when other people who have achieved the exact same damn amount of pretty much nothing because we’re still fucking teenagers, have nothing?”

Okay, that was quite heartfelt. Clint had a feeling Tony wasn’t talking about the circus anymore.

“Here I am,” carried on Tony, with a violent gesture, “sitting here with the resources to solve a problem for a friend, so why the fuck shouldn’t I? What kinda asshole would just stand by and watch him struggle when it would be so fucking easy to help?”

Bucky stepped back to stand at Clint’s side, sliding his hand into Clint’s.

“Is this about me?” Clint asked him in a whisper. Bucky shook his head.

“Maybe it’s not up to you to fix everything, Tony,” said Steve. “Maybe not everyone wants you taking over and deciding what should happen.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment, then let out a long, slow breath, as if trying to calm himself down. “If you think this is some kind of control freak thing, then you’re an idiot,” he said. He turned back to Clint and fixed him with a firm look. “I’m offering you the choice, Clint. Say the word, and I’ll sort it out. My parents won’t be an issue.”

Clint hesitated, then glanced at Bucky, who gave him a steady look and a squeeze of his hand. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s— Can I think about it?”

Tony grinned at him. “Of course. Take your time. You’ve got until March, right?”

“Right,” said Clint, returning the grin and clutching harder at Bucky’s hand.

Tony turned back to Steve and gave him a meaningful look, which made Steve scowl. Clint glanced at Bucky and saw him make the exact same decision to just leave them to it. They both shuffled to the side and settled down on a sofa, next to Sam and Natasha.

Bucky put an arm around Clint’s shoulders. Clint relaxed into him and let out a long breath, trying to recapture some Christmas spirit. “Is there eggnog?”

“Yep,” said Bucky. “Trust me though, you don’t want to try it. Tony mixed it.”

“I think it burnt the roof of my mouth off,” said Sam.

Natasha snorted and downed whatever was left in her glass. “Weak Americans.”

“I got you a beer,” said Bucky, fishing down by the side of the sofa and coming up with a bottle. 

Clint grinned at him and batted his eyelashes. “My hero.”

“Damn straight,” said Bucky, with a decisive nod.


	8. Chapter 8

**Clint**

Steve needed to leave Tony’s party early. Steve always seemed to leave early, if he was even able to make it at all. Clint had originally thought he had a super-strict mom, but he’d gathered enough hints and meaningful looks to guess that there was more to it than that.

At any rate, Clint had got in the habit of giving Steve a lift home, because that way he and Bucky could sneak off to his trailer for a bit before Bucky’s curfew, which was always time well-spent.

“So, you gonna tell us what that was about?” Bucky asked Steve as the van pulled away from Tony’s.

Steve was sitting behind Clint with his arms folded. “What what was about?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, half-turning in his seat to look at him. He had a hand resting on Clint’s thigh in a casual way, as if he’d forgotten about it, which Clint was enjoying. He liked it when Bucky took touching him for granted.

Only three more months before he’d have to give this all up. Unless he took Tony up on his offer and left the circus, and everyone he’d known for longer than three months.

Shit, how had he only known these people for a few months?

“Don’t be a punk, Steve. You and Tony.”

Clint glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Steve scowling out at the streets passing them by.

“Nothing.”

Bucky let out a very long sigh. “Don’t bother, Rogers. Talk already.”

Steve deflated. “I told him I wasn’t going to college because we couldn’t afford it.”

“You’re not going?” asked Bucky. His hand tightened on Clint’s leg. “You applied to all those art schools.”

“Yeah, well, everyone else was applying for things and-” He stopped himself and shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see if I could get in.”

Bucky frowned. “And did you?”

“Yep,” said Steve. “Got in all of them, and a scholarship offer from Massachusetts College of Art and Design.”

“Scholarship?” said Clint. “Hey, go you! That’s awesome.”

“And that’s in Boston,” said Bucky. “Where Tony’s going to be.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Yep,” he said, through gritted teeth. “That point has been made.”

“Oh for…” muttered Bucky. “I get that a scholarship doesn’t solve all your problems but come on, Steve. This is the rest of your life we’re talking about. Why the hell wouldn’t you go to art school in the same city as your boyfriend?”

“You know why,” said Steve. “C’mon, Bucky. It’s not just tuition fees that we can’t afford. Someone’s gotta get a job and started paying off some debts.”

“Right,” said Bucky. “Okay. And what did Tony say?”

Steve’s scowl deepened. “Tony just wants to throw money at me like it’ll make every problem disappear.”

Clint pressed his lips together to stop himself from pointing out that money made a surprisingly large number of problems disappear.

“So, let him,” said Bucky. “Why not? It’s bullshit that you’re gonna have to fuck up the rest of your life just because your mom got sick.”

Steve’s head whipped around and he glared at Bucky, then flicked his eyes to Clint. Right, okay, apparently this was a secret that Clint wasn’t meant to know about. He did his best to look as if he wasn’t paying any attention because he was too enthralled in driving. Oh look, a stop light, that was so riveting that he couldn’t hear a word that was going on around him.

“This isn’t something I want to talk about,” hissed Steve.

“Tough,” said Bucky. “Have you talked to your mom about it? I reckon we both know what she’d want you to do. Seriously, Steve, Tony was right earlier. He’s got the resources to help you out, why not just let him?”

“It isn’t that simple,” said Steve. “Ask Clint, he didn’t jump straight at Tony’s offer, did he?”

Ah, apparently Clint was part of this conversation. “That wasn’t because I’m too proud or anything,” he said. “I just don’t know if I want to leave the circus. There really is no guarantee they’ll take me back, you know. Not if they get another act in, and they turn out to be a better crowd-pleaser.”

Bucky scoffed. “How could any act be better than yours?”

Clitn took advantage of the stop light to lean over and kiss him for that. Bucky’s support was always welcome.

“And there’s my brother and everyone,” he added. “I’ve been with them since I was 12, they’re a bit like my family.”

Except, that was what he’d thought before he’d started hanging out with Bucky’s family and seen what that word actually meant. It turned out that there was more to it than just being better than his actual parents.

“Steve, come on,” said Bucky. “You should be going to art school, you know that. You’re so good, don’t waste your talents.”

“It’s not your decision,” snapped Steve.

Bucky held his hands up defensively. “Right, okay. Don’t bite my head off. Just trying to stop your pride from fucking up your life.”

Clint pulled the van over outside Steve’s building.

“Well, don’t,” said Steve. “I haven’t asked you to get involved.” He threw open his door and got out, then slammed it behind him.

Clint glanced at Bucky, who held his hands up in defeat. “I fucking tried, right?”

“Right,” agreed Clint, patting Bucky’s knee. “Want to go back to mine and make out until you feel better?”

“Can’t imagine anything I wanna do more,” said Bucky.

****

It didn’t end with making out, which Clint could have seen coming. Had been hoping for, really.

Afterwards, when they were both sweaty and a bit sticky, and Clint was stretched out over Bucky because there wasn’t really enough space in his bunk for two guys, he ran a thumb along the edge of Bucky’s rib cage and thought about how much he didn’t want to just walk away from this in three months time.

Bucky had his shirt pushed up and his good arm out of it, so it was just covering his bad arm and was hooked around his neck, which looked uncomfortable but Clint wasn’t about to judge. 

“So,” said Bucky, in a careful voice as he trailed his fingers over Clint’s shoulder. “What are you thinking about this staying at Tony’s idea?”

Clint raised his head to grin at him. “Asking with no ulterior motive or agenda, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “Hey, I’m not gonna pretend I don’t want you to stay around as long as possible. I like having you here. Besides, I know how much you want to graduate.”

“Yeah,” said Clint, quietly. He turned so that he wasn’t meeting Bucky’s eyes, found his collarbone in front of him instead and gave it a kiss. “I don’t know, the circus is kinda everything I know.”

Bucky’s hand trailed up and over his hair, skirting around the edge of his hearing aid to scratch over his head. “What do you want?” he asked. “For your future? Do you want to always be a circus performer?”

Clint had never really considered it. He’d never really felt like he was in a position to actually plan a future rather than just try and cling on to whatever good he’d managed to get in his present. “I don’t know,” he said, with a sigh. “I guess not, but what else would I do? Archery’s all I really know how to do.”

Bucky shrugged. “Anything you want. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. Plenty of time to learn new skills.”

“What are you doing?” asked Clint. “College?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Bucky. “I mean, I guess. I’ve applied, and got into a few, but. Well. I’d have to go off and be on my own. I wouldn’t have my family or Steve to hold my hand whenever I leave the house.” He shrugged. “Don’t know if I’d be able to do that.”

Clint kissed along his shoulder, skirting the edge of his shirt. “I bet you could,” he said. “You’re doing so much better than when I met you already, and college would be a whole new environment, right?”

Bucky just sort of shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I want to, but… Even if I do go, I’m gonna be the weird guy who spends all his time locked in his room or glaring at people.”

“The _sexy_ weird guy who spends all his time locked in his room or glaring at people,” corrected Clint, and kissed his way back to the centre of Bucky’s chest, where it was easy for him to raise his head and meet Bucky’s lips with his own.

“The sexy _taken_ guy,” added Bucky, then paused, a moment of insecurity passing over his face. “Unless you don’t want to try and keep this going long-distance.”

Clint really didn’t want to think about giving up on this. He kissed Bucky again. “I want to be with you,” he said, but it wasn’t that easy, was it? What kind of relationship would it be once he was back on the road? Texts and the occasional phone calls as the circus moved further and further away, and their lives became more and more distant?

“Fuck,” he muttered, and buried his face into Bucky’s shoulder. “I hate this,” he said. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Why can’t things just stay how they are?”

Bucky snorted, petting Clint’s hair. “I know, right? Change is the worst.”

Clint let out a long breath. He did want this to continue, at least for a bit longer, and he really wanted to graduate. “I’ll talk to Carson,” he said. “I’ll see if he’ll let me just catch up with them after June.”

Bucky’s hand stilled in his hair. “Okay.”

Clint lifted his head to see that Bucky was trying to restrain a wide smile. Clint rolled his eyes and kissed him again. “Yeah, yeah, try not to be too happy, he might object to being a performer down for that long.” A thought struck him. “Although, maybe Barney could step in. He’s pretty good with a bow, if he started getting in shape now he could be Hawkeye for a few months.”

He’d have to skip some of the more ridiculous tricks that Clint had worked out, but he’d be good enough for most of it. He’d probably have been Hawkeye from the start, but Clint had always been just that little bit better, mostly because he’d spent the time practicing shooting that Barney had spent getting drunk with the clowns.

“That sounds like a good compromise,” said Bucky. “If he wouldn’t mind stepping back again when you came back.”

Clint shrugged. “It’s a lot of discipline. I expect he’ll be more than ready to just chill out for a bit by then.”

Bucky’s phone alarm went off. Clint sighed. “I swear to god, time moves faster every time.”

Bucky shrugged his good shoulder, pushing Clint back so he could reach down for his phone and switch it off. “If I did go to college, you’d be able to come stay overnight,” he said. “I mean, it wouldn’t be long into the fall semester before your winter season started again, right?”

Clint sat back, letting Bucky get up to start pulling on clothes. He took a moment to just watch the stretch of his body as he pulled his shirt back on properly then felt around for his underwear.

“Yeah, true,” said Clint. “I could come find somewhere to live wherever you ended up, maybe get a job or something for a few months.”

He reached for his own pants and started getting dressed. Bucky’s alarm left them plenty of time to get back to his house before his curfew, but Clint had learnt the hard way that that didn’t mean they should ignore it and let themselves get distracted.

“I’d like that,” said Bucky. “That’d be worth getting through the first couple of months alone.” 

He didn’t look sure about that. Clint couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and pulling him into a hug, then kissing him. “You’re gonna be amazing. I can’t believe how far you’ve come just since I met you.”

“Right,” said Bucky, and kissed him again, then checked his watch and winced. “C’mon, or we’re gonna be late, and my dad’s gonna put condoms in my stocking or something.”

Clint would actually kinda enjoy watching that, but for the sake of Bucky’s sanity he grabbed his jacket and his car keys and started towards the van.

****

**Steve**

 

Christmas was very quiet. Last year, before Steve’s mom got sick, they’d had a bunch of people around, filling their tiny apartment up with chatter.

This year, Steve hadn’t even been sure Mom was going to be well enough for church until she got up that morning with more colour in her face than he’d seen in a while. Even so, he was glad they’d arranged for one of her friends to come and pick them up in her car.

She was tired when they got back, but not enough for Steve to persuade her to have a nap. Instead, she sat on the sofa with a glass of wine and chatted to him as he cooked. Or, well, heated things up. He’d gone for the easy options.

“You haven’t been glued to your phone like you usually are,” she noted. “Is Tony away somewhere for Christmas?”

“No,” said Steve, as shortly as he could.

She raised an eyebrow and shifted so that he couldn’t hide behind the wall from her. “Are you fighting, then?”

Steve felt his shoulders hunch over. “He started it,” he muttered.

“Ah,” she said slowly, with too much knowing in her voice. “Go on then, tell your mother all about it so that she can offer advice and dispense wisdom.”

“I don’t need advice or wisdom,” said Steve. “I just need Tony to shut up and leave it alone.”

“It takes two people to argue,” said his mom. “What was it about?”

Steve hesitated. He didn’t really like mentioning college in front of Mom, because he knew she felt bad about him not going, but he also needed to hear someone agree that it just wasn’t a possibility so it didn’t feel like he was on his own.

“College,” he said, shortly. “He’s not happy that I’m not going.”

Yeah, there was the sad look Steve wanted to avoid. “Me neither,” said Mom. “I’m so sorry, Steve, I should have been setting money aside. There just never seemed to be enough for that.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s not your fault, mom. I don’t blame you at all, it’s just one of those things.” He shrugged. “Just, in Tony’s world, there aren’t things like that, so he doesn’t understand. He thinks that he can just wave a magic money wand and make everything better.”

“He offered you money?”

Steve shook his head. “His mom used to be on the board of some charity that he thinks can help. They help people pay off medical bills or something, I don’t know. I think he wants to give me money as well, for supplies and stuff that the scholarship wouldn’t cover. Doesn’t matter, I’m not doing it. Even if we had all the money, I couldn’t leave you.”

“I see,” she said, slowly. “Did he mention the name of the charity?”

Steve felt his eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” she asked. “I realise you have the unbendable pride of the young, but I’m perfectly happy for some philanthropist to come along and take some of my stress off my hands.”

Steve sighed. “Mom, it’s fine. I’ll get a job, we’ll be able to—”

“No,” she interrupted. “It’s not okay. Steve, you’re my only child, and you’re intelligent and gifted, and I don’t want you missing out on college and getting trapped in the first job you can get just because you think there aren’t options. I’ll call Tony myself if he thinks he can help.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that. How could he explain how much he didn’t want to be beholden to Tony for something this big? A relationship was meant to be equal partners, not one partner paying for everything for the other one. Especially as Steve knew that Tony had a bit of a chip about people only wanting to hang out with him for his money. He was meant to be different to all those others, so how could he agree to this?

Mom let out a long sigh at whatever look was on his face. “Steve, sweetheart. There are precious few chances to cheat at life. You should grab all the ones you can.”

Steve was saved from the conversation by the timer going off, and turned back to the oven to concentrate on the food instead.

After lunch, they settled on the sofa to watch a movie but Mom ended up nodding off before they were even halfway through. Steve watched her sleep, and thought about what she’d said.

He hadn’t really stopped to consider how much she wanted him to go to college. All he’d been able to think about was how much he didn’t want to leave her alone. Even if she’d got better by then, she’d still be struggling under the weight of all the debt that nearly a year of illness had built up. He wanted to help with that.

Maybe this was how he could help with that, by taking the worry off her mind now.

His phone beeped and he picked it up to see a text from Tony.

_Merry Christmas, and the same to your mom. Hope you’re having a better one than I am._

Steve stared at it, then shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck, he was messing everything up. He had to do better than this.

_Merry Christmas! Sorry yours isn’t going so well. I can call, if you’re free?_

The reply was immediate. _I’m always free for you, baby._

Steve turned off the TV and pulled a blanket over Mom, then retreated to his bedroom so that he could plug in his phone while he called Tony, otherwise it would die after about thirty seconds. Fuck, he was sick of this phone.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” replied Tony. “Joy of the season and all that. Are there crazy hijinks in the Rogers household?”

Steve snorted. “Mom’s having a nap, so…no.”

“Oh, hey, my mom’s having a nap as well,” said Tony. “Well, I mean, she said she was tired and has shut herself in her room, she’s either napping or just staring into space, could go either way. You know, I could drive over, if you’re not up to much? Just for, like, half an hour or something? Or not, I mean, you probably don’t—”

Steve knew the note in Tony’s voice well enough to know that he was better off interrupting rather than waiting for him to ramble his way into deciding that Steve never wanted to see him again. “I’d like that.”

He could hear the smile in Tony’s voice. “Okay, awesome, I’ll come over then. Dad and Obie are locked up in Dad’s office doing work things, and we’ve already done all the photos for PR, so I’m not gonna be missed.”

That whole sentence made Steve angry. How the hell could anyone care so little about Tony that they wouldn’t notice if he disappeared halfway through Christmas Day, let alone people who were meant to be his family? He took a deep breath. “Text me when you get here, we’ll go for a drive,” he said instead. “And, thanks, Tony. It’ll be great to see you.”

“Of course, it’s always great to see me,” said Tony, in the tone that meant he didn’t really believe Steve. Steve would just have to prove it to him. “See you soon.”

When Tony texted, Steve left his mom a note on the table to tell her where he was, then hurried downstairs.

Tony grinned at him as he got in the car. “You wouldn’t believe how empty the roads are, I think the whole town is lying on their sofas in a food coma.”

Steve glanced around at the empty streets, then reached out to put a seatbelt on. “Guess that means this is the perfect chance for you to show off your driving skills then.”

Tony’s face lit up. “Serious? You’re not gonna get upset about speed limits or anything?”

Steve took a firmer grip on the handle on the door. “Nope,” he said. “C’mon, let’s feel the need for speed.”

“Oh, _hell_ yeah,” said Tony, and they pulled away with a squeal of tires.

It was actually a lot of fun zooming around the streets faster than was advisable, particularly when Tony took them out of town and down some of the long, straight country roads where he could really get some speed up. Steve felt adrenalin pounding through his system and from the wild grin on Tony’s face, he was feeling the same.

They circled back around into town, and Tony pulled up by Hancock Park and turned that grin on Steve.

“Okay, that was great.”

Steve pinged off his seatbelt and threw himself across the seats to kiss him. Tony immediately wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close, muttering something that sounded like _fuck, yeah_ against Steve’s lips.

They made out for longer than Steve thought he would have been comfortable with in a public place, but Tony just had a way of blowing through all his boundaries.

Besides, it was Christmas.

“Okay, this is awesome,” said Tony, when they eventually pulled apart. “So awesome, seriously, but, uh, it’s kinda uncomfortable, so—”

“Yeah, it’s fucking painful,” agreed Steve and pulled back to his side of the car, rubbing at the part of his leg that the handbrake had been digging into.

Tony clicked his fingers. “C’mon, the park is right there,” he said, throwing open the car door.

Steve followed him out of the car and into the park. Tony paused to grab a blanket from his trunk, then hustled Steve onto a bench under a tree so that he could wrap it around both of them. “Much better,” he said, and kissed Steve again, arm wrapped around his waist.

They lost a bit more time, until Steve’s lips were started to go numb and he pulled back to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “Okay,” he said. “I actually was going to apologise to you when I saw you, somehow I just keep getting distracted.”

Tony laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. “Not sure how that keeps happening, nothing distracting about me at all. Besides, no need to apologise, I probably shouldn’t have lost my temper. Just, it’s hard seeing something you could fix and not being able to.”

“Yeah,” agreed Steve, because he knew how that felt. “Look, I talked to my mom about it, and. Well.” He took a deep breath. “She asked if you had any more details about that charity you were talking about.”

Tony’s eyes were wide, and the smile that passed over his face was beautiful, and not even a little bit smug, which is what Steve had been afraid of. “You’re gonna think about it?”

“Yeah,” said Steve, then shrugged. “Mom pointed out it was stupid to not grab every opportunity, just. I don’t want to take money off you.”

“I know,” said Tony. “Hey, I get it, but I hate the idea of you missing out on college. I want to help.”

“Like you hate the idea of Clint missing out on graduating,” said Steve. “You’re quite the educational philanthropist.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “People shouldn’t miss out on these kinda important things just because of money,” he said. “It’s bullshit.”

Had Steve really thought that Tony was a typical selfish rich guy? He must have been paying no attention at all. He kissed him again, pulling the blanket closer around them both.

“And on that note,” said Tony, “I do have a Christmas present for you, but it might make you mad, so…uh. Don’t be mad, I guess?”

He pulled a wrapped box out of his pocket and handed it to Steve, who regarded it for a moment, then looked back at Tony’s tense expression.

“I’ll do my best,” he said. “It’s not Alexander Pierce’s skewered heart, is it?”

“No,” said Tony, “and thanks for that mental image. Is that really where your mind goes first? Because that says something a bit disturbing about you, maybe I should have got something a bit darker. What does today’s serial killer get for his boyfriend?”

Steve ignored the babble as he unwrapped the present, then paused. “It’s a phone.”

“Yes,” said Tony. “Let me— look. Your phone is fucked. You know that, right? Everyone knows that. I spend half my life texting you and then having to wait for you to realise it’s dead and plug it in before you respond and calling you? Yeah, not really worth it. Besides, you use it to keep in contact with your mom, you need something reliable, and no, just using Bucky’s every time doesn’t count, c’mon, you can’t tell me you haven’t accidentally seen sexts from Clint doing that, and no one wants that, seriously, just...it’s Christmas. I wanted to get you something you really needed.”

And that level of babble meant Tony was incredibly nervous about it. Steve looked down at it, carefully blocked the idea of a pricetag out of his head, and then leaned in to kiss Tony. “It’s great. Thank you.”

Tony’s face broke out into a relieved grin. “You’re not mad?”

“Nope,” said Steve, then reconsidered. “Well, only that what I got you is going to look pretty terrible next to this.”

He still wasn’t that sure that he’d got Tony the right thing at all. Giving someone your own art seemed kinda cheap, even if they both knew that there was no way that Steve could afford to get Tony anything close to a phone. He’d spent hours working on the painting, all through December, but still all he could see when he looked at it were the errors. He’d thought that doing a smaller version of a painting he’d already done once would make it easier, especially when you factored in all the sketches and studies he’d done as well, but somehow all he could see when he looked at the circus he’d painted for Tony was how Tony deserved something so much better.

He’d shown his mom and she’d talked him into wrapping it up, but there was still a sick feeling that he’d got this wrong, that Tony would open it and there would be a split-second of disappointment before he plastered on a polite smile.

“Steve, so far my presents have been a new suit and an invitation to the next SI board meeting, a bottle of stupidly expensive whiskey that Obie always forgets I’m technically not old enough to drink, and a Datron M10 Pro, which is fantastic, but basically I just gave my mom the website link and she ordered exactly what I wanted, so it was kinda like buying it myself.”

Steve stared at him.

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s a milling machine.”

“Oh, right,” said Steve.

Tony huffed out a breath. “Your ‘no really, I totally know what you’re talking about’ face is _adorable_ , I think you should know that.” He kissed Steve. “And any present you’ve got me is going to be far and away my best present, no competition.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it’s no start of an underage alcoholism problem.”

The way Tony’s eyes lit up when he laughed was pretty much perfect. Steve didn’t know how he was meant to resist kissing him every time he did it.

“Oh man, I really want to get you and Obie in a room together,” said Tony. “He’d try and impress you with booze and cigars, and you’d just be your snarky little Steve Rogers self at him. Have I told you how much I love your casual abuse of sarcasm? It’s beautiful.”

He kissed Steve again, pressing in so close that he was practically in Steve’s lap.

Steve was being an idiot. Of course Tony was going to love the painting, he seemed to love pretty much everything Steve did, even when there didn’t seem to be a good reason for it.

“C’mon,” he said, getting up off the bench and whipping the blanket away from Tony with a swirl. “Let’s get back to mine so I can give it to you, and also plug this in so you can show me how to use it.”

Tony hopped up off the bench. “Excellent plan.”

****

**Tony**

Clint and Bucky were making out again. This was the problem with sitting students in surname order: Barton and Barnes should never be allowed to be next to each other if there was any chance of them getting bored and, well. Graduation speeches were always kinda dull.

Tony readjusted his gown and glanced over at Steve, who just rolled his eyes at him. Fury could clearly see Bucky and Clint at it and was gamely pressing on with his speech, although it looked a bit like he was going to shoot lasers out of his eye and set the whole B-section of students on fire.

To be honest, Tony was kinda jealous. Frank Rutherford and Aalia Shah were sitting between him and Steve, keeping them from doing more than make faces at each other. As the speeches ended and they started the long process of watching every single person in their grade walk across a stage, Tony began to worry that his brain was going to atrophy from boredom.

He almost hadn’t come at all, but Clint’s excitement about the whole thing had been overflowing for weeks, and there was no way Tony was going to pour cold water on that by not showing up.

When it came Clint’s turn to go up, he turned a somersault across the stage rather than just walking, cartwheeling into a tucked roll and landing right in front of Fury with a shit-eating grin. The minute he had the certificate in his hand, he sprinted across to leap off the stage to where Bucky had paused to wait for him, exclaimed, “I fucking graduated!” loud enough for the whole hall to hear, and then swept Bucky up into a long, passionate kiss.

Fury looked as if he was grinding his teeth into powder as he called Dani Bennett’s name. Miss Hill strode forward to separate Clint and Bucky and hustle them back to their seats with what looked like a furious, whispered tirade that was completely ignored by both of them.

Tony was half-asleep before it was time for their row to file out and down to the front. Steve was searching through the crowd for his mom, who Bucky’s parents had driven over. She looked pale and a bit on the thin side, but so much better than she had when Tony first met her. The doctors were trying some new treatment that seemed to be working, at least for now. 

Tony hadn’t realised just how tense Steve had been all the time until she’d started getting better and he’d started to relax. He watched as Steve crossed the stage, pausing to grin at his mom, and felt the familiar surge of affection that he’d stopped trying to control months ago. God, even just watching Steve made him fill up with an emotion that he totally wasn’t going to admit to being love.

Not yet, anyway. Maybe once they’d been in Boston for a while. Tony bounced on his heels at the thought, then headed up onto the stage as his own name was called. He put on one of the grins he used for public events and waved at the audience, and then froze.

His mom was here.

Tony stopped dead for a moment, then forced himself to keep walking, although he didn’t take his eyes off Mom as he shook hands and took his certificate. He hadn’t expected either of his parents to be here. His dad had made it clear that a mere high school graduation wasn’t worth him losing a day in the office, and Mom hadn’t left the house without Dad forcing her into it in years.

She applauded as he left the stage, and he waved his certificate at her in acknowledgement.

Steve was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, having apparently swapped places with Aalia. Tony clutched at his arm. “Did you see my mom?” he hissed.

Steve nodded, and grinned at him. “Congratulations, Tony.”

Tony beamed at him, then pulled him down into a kiss because, fuck it, if Clint and Bucky could get away with it, so could they.

“Stop that!” hissed Miss Hill, appearing out of nowhere. “Get to your seats! God, I am so done with hormonal teenagers.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand as they went back to their seats, craning his head to look over at his mom again. Yup, she was definitely there. Huh.

****

As soon as the ceremony was over, Tony was up out of his seat and heading back to find her. She was wearing her usual armour of immaculate clothing and makeup, and was looking around at the crowds of parents congratulating their children with trepidation, but she found a smile when she saw Tony.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, abandoning the usual Stark policy of coding everything before you said it.

“Of course I came,” she said. She hesitated, then reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I’m very proud of you, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched him, and he definitely couldn’t remember either of his parents ever saying they were proud. He had to take a moment to choke back his emotions.

“Thanks,” he managed.

“Hello, Mrs Stark,” said Clint, coming up behind Tony.

If you’d asked Tony at the beginning of the year what it would be like to live in the same house as a circus performer, he wouldn’t have imagined anything close to what it was actually like, and he definitely wouldn’t have expected his mom to cope with it like she had.

Not that they saw a whole hell of a lot of Clint. He spent pretty much any time that he wasn’t at school either over at Bucky’s house or out in the bit of the garden hidden behind a hedge where he’d set up an archery range. Tony hadn’t really thought about the amount of dedication to shooting that you’d need to be as good as Clint was while still a teenager, but it involved far more time and effort than Clint’s attitude would indicate.

Tony joined him every so often, mostly so that he could make sure he stayed better than Steve. Now that Steve was getting used to his growth spurt, he was getting more coordinated at everything, so Tony needed every advantage he could get.

Or, he could just do what Bucky did when he came over to hang out with Clint and swoon from the sidelines.

“Hello, Clint,” said Tony’s mom. “Congratulations.”

Clint’s grin hadn’t faded even slightly all day. Tony’s cheeks were beginning to ache in sympathy. “Thanks! Check me out, I’m a high-school graduate!” He paused and frowned for a moment. “The first in my family. My immediate family, I’ve no idea what my grandparents were like at school.”

“Wow, really?” asked Tony. “I didn’t know that.”

Clint shrugged. “Well, Barney never really bothered with high school, mom dropped out when she got pregnant with him and dad dropped out not long after, so he could start working at his dad’s farm. I guess we’re not really an academic family.”

Tony slung an arm around his shoulders to pat his back. “Okay, now I’m seriously impressed.”

“I thought you were trying to quit being patronising?” asked Clint, and his smile faltered.

Tony shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, I meant, you put all the effort in for this, off your own back without all the parental support and expectations that the rest of the school had pushing them. You decided you wanted it and just went for it. And look! You did it!”

Clint looked at his certificate again, and his grin recovered. “Hell yeah, I did.” He glanced at Tony, and then at his mom. “Not alone, though. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere close without you guys letting me crash with you. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” said Mom. “It’s been lovely to have you.”

The words were the standard polite phrases, but Tony could hear the sincerity under them. He wondered if Clint could, or if you needed to have spent years trying to decode every word she said to hear it.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” said Clint. “Got to get back to my life and all, right?” He glanced over at Bucky without appearing to realise he was doing it. Right, the upcoming separation of the school’s most sickeningly attached-at-the-hip couple, that was going to be a thing. Tony knew Steve was already trying to work out strategies for helping Bucky cope.

Frankly, Tony kinda thought that too many people had been crowded around helping Bucky cope for the last few years, and maybe it was time for him to try and work out his own strategies, but probably he was too used to his dad’s method of parenting. At any rate, listening to Steve had given Tony at least one idea that he was pretty sure would go down well with everyone.

“I’m thinking it might be your turn to return the favour then,” said Tony. “I’m gonna get a bunch of us together to come out and see your show later in the summer, maybe hang out with you for a few days. A roadtrip’s a rite of passage, right?”

Clint’s grin somehow managed to get even wider. Tony wasn’t sure how his whole face hadn’t cracked in half. “I mean, my whole life is a roadtrip, but I reckon I’ve heard that.”

“I feel like Bucky could do with a few rites of passage, give him a chance to practice spreading his wings before college,” said Tony, pointedly.

Clint’s eyes went back over to Bucky, who was enduring some fussing from his mom with what looked like not a lot of grace. “That would be pretty much perfect,” he said. “If he’s up for it. And at any rate, I’ll see you in Boston. I’m gonna come bother Bucky in the fall, when our season’s over. You’ll be around, right?”

“Right,” agreed Tony. 

Once Bucky had heard that Steve was going to art school in Boston, he’d announced he’d accepted his offer from Northeastern. He’d had clenched fists and a glare of death when he’d said it, so Tony figured he was shitting himself at the thought of being so completely out of his comfort zone, even with Steve in the same city. It wasn’t as if they were going to the same college, after all.

Bucky’s parents had arranged for him to have a single in the dorms so that he’d at least have his own space and a lockable door, but Tony thought he had enough of a grip on Bucky’s reactions to guess that it was only the idea of having Clint come join him halfway through the semester that was stopping him from scrapping the whole thing and hiding under his bed instead.

Maybe he was being unfair. Bucky had been much better this year than he had been last year, even going to a Spanish study group that Sam had organised at his place despite the fact that neither Steve nor Clint took Spanish. Tony had been so proud when he’d seen him there without a security blanket, he’d almost shed a tear.

Steve’s arm appeared around Tony’s shoulders and he turned to beam at him. “We’re all going to get dinner,” said Steve, nodding over at where Bucky’s family were still clustered around him, his mom taking an endless stream of photos of him as he tried not to scowl. “Do you guys want to come? Mrs Stark?”

Tony glanced at his mom. She’d gone very quiet and he’d assumed she was plotting her escape, but instead she looked over at where Steve’s mom was sitting watching Bucky’s sisters trying on his cap and a look of resolution took over her face.

“Thank you, that would be nice. I’ve been meaning to talk to your mother.”

Steve and Tony exchanged identical _oh shit_ looks, and Clint started sniggering.

“Guys!” called Pepper. “Get over here! We’re doing an Avengers graduation photo!”

“Awesome idea!” said Clint, and darted away to grab Bucky and liberate him from his family.

“Back in a bit,” Tony said to his mom, following Steve over to where Pepper had gathered the others, glaring at Thor until he moved to the back and stopped blocking Natasha with his biceps.

Tony held Steve’s hand as Pepper’s mom took the photo for them, with Rhodey’s shoulder pressed to his and Clint cheering loudly behind his head, and probably making rabbit ears behind his head, the shit.

“We only fucking graduated!” shouted Clint. “Whooo!”

“Hoorah!!” added Thor, in a bellow loud enough to echo across the hall. “We wrestled the beast of academic learning and emerged victorious!”

Tony started laughing, falling sideways into Steve as Pepper’s mom took another photo. He was going to look like an idiot in it, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care, not when he was surrounded by all these people who had become his friends.


End file.
